Take Me as I Am
by Jade R. Rayne
Summary: [Bethyl] Falling in love was the last thing Daryl had in mind. With walkers mutating and Beth getting injured virtually in every possible way, how will he manage to keep her safe? Once reunited with the group, he struggles with his growing feelings for Beth and pushes her away. Will Beth let Daryl have his way or fight to prove that they're destined for each other?
1. Prologue

**_A/N: Entire contents of this chapter have been edited!_**

**Setting:** This chapter is set in the future, two years after 4:13. _Chapter Two_ will pick up right where Daryl and Beth left off.

**Ratings:** M for now for language. Maybe MA for some sensual content later on.

**This story will have a slow burn beginning- there will be times when you cringe at the actions of either Beth or Daryl and there will be times when it'll be Beth or Daryl centered for a few chapters. **

**Take Me As I Am  
**_Chapter 1  
[Prologue]_

The setting sun bathed the once blue sky with burning yellow and orange embers, taking its warmth and protection with it as it began to vanish over the horizon. Darkness began to envelope the sky, bringing about uncertainty and fear. In the distance, supernatural howls began to howl into the increasing darkness. It's not safe anywhere—any safe haven would've been infiltrated by now. What was once safe was not anymore. No one… and nothing was safe.

Except for their expanding group and their fortress.

It was a miracle, to say the least. They had reunited only recently, and slowly broadening their numbers by rescuing survivors and setting them to work. They had to.

Something changed—walkers changed. Many were still the typical slow, decaying living corpse… and some… some of them evolved—mutated. At first no one knew what it meant when the earth shook and trembled. It was a small scale nuclear explosion of a nuclear power plant in New York that a few groups of survivors try to start again. At least, that's what they were told.

Despite the impending doom of the zombie apocalypse, there were many survivor groups out there. _Were, was, and used to be… past tense— _not anymore. A couple of months after the explosion, these survivor groups that had survived hordes after hordes were dying out. Hunted, would be the most correct term. Surely, the walkers had an affinity of detecting scents of blood and are attracted to noise, but there was something that walked amongst them.

Survivors, now in fortified prison group, of these deceased groups claimed that the large hordes that attacked—_hunted_ them had a leader howling commands. They said that the walkers would circle them, blocking any potential escape routes and they would stand there… waiting. Until, a snarl is sounded, then the walkers swarmed in. These survivors had no idea how they escaped and lived to tell the tale, but they were grateful to be alive.

They all were.

Beth expressed a solemn sigh, her eyes glued to the fortified metal gates of their prison—_home._ It had been over six weeks since she last saw Daryl. Daryl, her friend, savior… and lover. A part of her wished she wasn't so stubborn. Wasn't it her stubbornness that drove him away? A soft scoff escaped her lips—she's a Greene girl. Stubbornness is a trait her side of the family carries. Then again, Daryl did say Dixons were stubborn as well.

She laughed silently to herself—the situation itself was bittersweet in all honesty. She straightened her back and slung the strap of her M16 assault rifle across her shoulder. For a long moment, she continued to stare at and beyond the fortress wall's gate. Her mind wandered back to the point where she basically forced him to leave.

No, she didn't outright tell him to go… he left willingly but she pushed him away. Unsightly tears began to gather and blur her vision as his departure replayed itself in her mind…

-0-

_"Daryl, I need to talk to you. Just for a minute," Beth smiled lovingly at her lover, her hero. She knew he would be overjoyed at the news… after all, he wasn't getting any younger and neither was she. At this point in her life, and in their current situation, Beth believed that this was a gift from God. _He _was telling her to keep living with courage and conquer her fears. _He_ was telling her that what happened between her and Daryl was right and not a mistake._

_Daryl nodded curtly, his face seemingly a little grim and annoyed. After placing his polished arrows and crossbow aside, he left the group of males he was speaking to before following Beth to a corner of the fortified gates. "What?"_

_Puzzled, Beth furrowed her eyebrows at his sharp tone. "Are you okay? Is something bothering you?" His odd behavior effectively made Beth rethink her decision to tell him the news._

_"Yeah, 'ts nothing. What'd ya want to tell me?" His voice gruff and unyielding._

_"Oh… uhm… well I—," she began._

_"Wait, actually, yeah I do have something that's bothering the hell outta me," he let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his semi- long brown hair. He paused to take in Beth's patient and expecting gaze, as of debating whether or not to continue. "There ain't no easy way to say this…"_

_"I'm sure whatever it is Daryl, we can solve it together," Beth began to take a step closer to him to wrap her arms around his waist—until he pulled back by taking a step back himself._

_"You and I, Beth… we just can't be. It can't go on no more."_

_Beth stood there, stunned. "What are you trying to say, Daryl Dixon?" her southern drawl always dominated her speech when she was upset or angry._

_"You and I— I don't want to hurt you more than I already have… we can't be together… It just ain't right," he looked straight into her eyes, with no emotion in his eyes._

_Her lower lip trembled; salty tears began to cascade down her cheeks. "What brought this on?" she asked, not quite understanding the situation. "We were fine yesterday. What made you change your mind all of a sudden?!"_

_"I've been feeling like this for a while Beth. For Christ's sake I'm too old for you, and I've done things that I never shoulda done. I don't deserve someone so angelic like you. It… it ain't happening. I'm going to stop it right here, right now," he crossed his arms in front of his chest, looking at her down the tip of his nose, daring her to defy him._

_Something in Beth snapped. Her gentle, docile nature disappeared as she yelled at him, not caring who or what heard them. "So is this it, Daryl Dixon? Was I just some sweet young fuck to you?" She lurched forward, putting her hands on his shoulder and shoved him backwards, hard. "Did it mean nothing to you? Are you embarrassed that you had to settle with me, a girl nearly half your age?! Do I mean nothing to you?!"_

_"Damnit Beth, quit putting words in my mouth! I couldn't get more than a couple sentences in and you done and gone run your mouth!" Daryl yelled back, his face began to redden in anger. "You have your damn whole life in front of you, and I'm just some fucking perverted ol' man. I don't want to be the asshole who robs you of your fucking future!" He pointed at the main prison building with a tense posture, "that is where your future is, with them young folks inside. Not me."_

_"You're deciding for me, Daryl! I don't want them, I want to be with you damnit! Why can't you just trust my decision to stay with you? If it's my future you're so worried about, you don't gotta. Because it's mine, and I want to spend it with you!" she hissed her words angrily, upset that Daryl had once again, and made decision of her future for her._

_"You ain't gotta choice, Beth. I'm telling right now, that this thing between you and me is over," he casted her a last glance before taking one small step back. Then another… and another after that until he turned his back on her and began to stalk away._

_"I hate you, Daryl Dixon. I don't want to ever see your face around here again," Beth whispered, heartbroken. She turned on her heels and hightailed into the main building, brushing by glances from curious bystanders._

_Little did she know, once she disappeared into the building, Daryl's shoulders slumped—as if defeated. He turned around slowly, his eyes trained on the door she disappeared through. His eyes glazed over with unshed tears, his face tight and grim._

_He went to retrieve his weapons and rallied a few men to load up the run-truck and started to head out of the protective fortress. His eyes never left the door in which his lover disappeared through, even as the fortified gates began to close, obscuring his vision. With a defeated sigh, he closed his eyes and a lone tear slipped from a corner of an eye, whispering his last apology…_

_"I love you, Beth… 'm sorry…"_

_-0-_

The next morning of their argument, she avoided everyone like the plague, not eating nor drinking. Maggie Greene walked in with a plate of eggs and a small glass of goat milk, in efforts to tempt and bribe her sister to come out. They were lucky in running across a goat farm with non-diseased livestock and packets and packets of crop seeds.

It was then when Maggie told her Daryl and a few others had left to find more survivors. At first, Beth didn't bother to care—at least she tried to not care. But every moment she was not buried with tasks, she would think of him. Of how he protected her, how he smiled at her… how he loved her. She knew it well, but her anger was still raw and fresh.

It wasn't until after the third day, she began worrying about him. By the fourth day he was still missing, she got down on her knees and prayed for his and the group's safe return. By the second week since his absence, she grew restless and had tried to leave to find him on her own. Rick and Maggie said it would be suicide, but Beth didn't care.

Against her better judgment, she slipped into the night when no one was paying attention to her. She handled the straggler walkers just fine, but by morning, she ran into a small herd of walkers. If it weren't for Rick, Michonne, and Glen for tracking her down… she would've been the walkers' breakfast.

By the third week, she laid in bed for days—neither wanting to eat or drink. The army nurse, Raeanne, with the agreement of the group, started an IV to keep her hydrated and alive. It was then when the nurse noticed her critical and unique condition.

Of course, Maggie wasn't happy at all. In fact, everyone was quite shocked… but there was nothing she could do about it. Her sister and Ryan kept visiting her, encouraging her until by the fourth week, she decided to move on with her life.

And here she was now.

A part of her admired Daryl's concern of her future if he had let them be together. Yet, the other part of her hated herself for admiring his stubbornness. But isn't that what love is? To love a person is to love all their flaws and strengths, their weaknesses and courage.

She was torn. She had to move on with her life. If he was alive, he would've returned by now. But deep within her heart, she kept a spark—a hope that he's out there… surviving as Daryl he does best.

Beth sighed and shook her head in attempt to clear her thoughts of Daryl. Even after six weeks of his absence, it was without a doubt that she still loved him that with every fiber of her being knew—he was the only man, living or dead, for her.

"Do you want me to take over, Beth? You need some rest, honey. You've been taking sentry duty for days now," Maggie placed a soft hand on her little sister's shoulder, her brows creased with worry.

Beth looked up to find her sister smiling softly down at her. She didn't even hear her open the door. "No… I'm okay Maggie. You though," she nodded at her sister's protruding stomach. "You need more rest than I do at this point."

Maggie grinned sheepishly and shrugged, "I feel useless 'round here. No one's letting me do anything. It's like they see me as an invalid!"

"Well, Maggie… you are 'bout to burst!" Beth laughed and reached over to give her sister's hand a squeeze of affection. "Brother-in-law's worried sick about you. That's why he insisted to run for supplies for the delivery even when we're well equipped now."

"He's a good man," Maggie nodded. A blanket of comfortable silence fell between them. The sun had nearly set over the horizon; the darkness of night crept closer and darker. "Did you tell him?" Maggie broke the silence between them with a serious tone, "before… you know?"

Beth shook her head, her blond tresses tousled softly with the action. "Couldn't… no, _didn't_," she amended. "It wouldn't have changed anyway… maybe."

"Well… you never—," the older Greene sister was interrupted by frantic shouts at their fortress's gate.

Beyond the gate was a military jeep trailed by a familiar look white truck, and beyond the two vehicles was a large horde of the undead closing in on them.

Amidst the chaos, Beth swore she heard his voice.

/

**JR** – REVISED. I hope this is a much, much better chapter. **Remember, next chapter will start from where Beth is assumed to be kidnapped by someone and Daryl meets the group of bikers.**

Please leave some feedback!


	2. Into the Darkness

**Take Me as I Am**  
_Chapter 2 [Into the Darkness]_

A gentle breeze picked up in the small clearing at the intersection of the road and the train tracks as he sat there on the dirt, numb. He wanted to keep going—he didn't want to stop until he knew she was safe and by his side. He'd be a damn liar if he said he didn't miss her already. He usually wasn't a person for feels or any other emotion other than stoicism, sarcasm or anger.

At least, not until the world had gone to hell. People assumed that people like him, rugged and rough would love the chaos, anarchy and destruction penetrating the world now. No, not him. How many times in the past year did he wish the world hadn't gone to hell? Well, about too damn many times.

Contrary to his rough exterior, and tough life—he valued life. He's a survivalist—it's what he does best after escaping the angry throes of his abusive father. Dare he say it; he even misses the rough housing he and Merle used to get into. It often ended him being bruised and sore for the next several days, but it was the way these two brothers' bonded. And now, he's gone. Zombified and dead.

He'd be damned if he'll let Beth die too.

"Well, look'et here," Daryl could hear the smirk in the stranger's voice. Distant footsteps drew closer, surrounding him in a circle, trying to trap him. They drew closer, and the leader, Daryl presumed stepped in front of him. Not bothering to spare another second, Daryl shot up from the ground and launched a punch into the man's face—effectively knocking him to the ground. He gripped his trusted crossbow at hand, and aimed at the fallen fellow.

"Damnit, hold up!" the man shouted from the ground, sounding a bit winded.

"I'm claiming the vest," one of the other fellows behind him with the black compound bow sneered. "I like'em wings."

The older man on the ground leered at Daryl, wiping the blood dripping from his nose, "Hold up." Noticing the large amount of blood on his finger, he laughed in what Daryl assumed was being pleasantly surprised.

"A bowman?" the fellow let out a strangled sigh. "See, I respect that. A man with a rifle could'a been some photographer… soccer coach back in the day but… a bowman is a bowman through and through." He took a step closer to Daryl, despite the crossbow aiming straight at his head.

Daryl kept silent, studying this stranger and his posse. He was outnumbered, but if it's a fight they want he'll fight to the death before giving up. And he's damn sure he'll take out at least half of this group before he goes down under.

"What you got there, an hundred-fifty pound draw weight? I'll be darned if that thing don't fire at least three hundred feet per second. I've been looking for a weapon like that," he continued with an arrogant smile on his face. "'course ah, one with a bit more ammo."

The bowman behind him snickered, and leered in his southern drawl, "You got yourself some trouble there, partner?"

"You pull that trigger, these boys will drop you several times over," the man with the pepper grey and white hair continued, confidence unwavering. "That what'chu want? Come on fella, suicide is stupid." A sadistic grin grew on his face, a sinful look. "Why hurt yourself, when you can hurt other people?"

Daryl didn't answer him—he was contemplating. The odds are, this fellow here was right. He wouldn't come out of this fight alive if he resisted. And they weren't going to take no for an answer. He met people like them… in fact; he was a lot like them before the shit hit the fan.

"Name's Joe," he supplied, knowing that Daryl will not resist.

Daryl slowly lowered his crossbow and exchanged his name in return, "Daryl." If he was going to survive and rescue Beth, he has to be accepted into this group first. "Where are you guys heading?"

Joe grinned, "Well son, there's a story to that. You see these tracks here?" he pointed along the railroad tracks leading to what seems like a never ending track. "We found these tracks and some map saying there's a safe place down yonder. We figured we would go give it a try after we left the house we were just in."

"A house? Was it safe?" That peaked his interest, if there was a house nearby; there was a good chance Beth was there. Wherever she is, he'll find her. He'll find her.

"Nawh, some fucker killed one'o our own back there and he turned to a fucking walker. Nearly bit my fucking head off," the one with the compound bow snarled, spitting at the ground in disgust.

"Ain't nobody there?"

"No, all that ruckus dumbass here made," Joe nodded at the bowman behind Daryl, "attracted more walkers. We hightailed outta there before it was too late. Now come on we're burning daylight. Make no sense waiting around for walkers to catch up to us or somethin'." He turned from the group and headed down the tracks, not caring who followed. Sure enough, all five men followed without another word, except the bowman, grumbling under his breath.

Daryl fell behind them, looking at the forest around the tracks to calculate an escape route. He knew without a doubt in his body that this group of particular group of men are up to no good. Before he could get a good look of his surroundings, Joe called to him.

"Son, get your young ass up here and talk to me. I want know to know how the hell you ended up on that road, sitting there like fresh bait," he waved his arm, motioning him to catch up next to him.

Concealing his hesitance, Daryl walked alongside Joe in silence. He ran through potential answers through his head before answering—making sure he didn't give too much away. There was a chance that Rick and the others were alive… a slim chance, but a chance nonetheless. And Beth. He sure as hell didn't want to say anything that'll put her in danger. These men, especially the man with the compound bow would hurt her in ways a man shouldn't hurt a woman in a heartbeat.

"So?" Joe looked up expectantly, wanting for an answer.

Daryl wasn't going to give up information so easily. "So, what?" The conversation seemed strangely familiar, he almost didn't remember until Beth's smiling face popped up in his mind. Oh, right. Before he stupidly opened the damn door without checking what's outside, he was in the kitchen with Beth. He watched the recognition spread on her face when she realized it was she who changed his mind about the finding good in people.

Throughout the entire time she was teasing him, he couldn't get over the fact that she was there—with him. Whether it was a choice by God or his own… he silently vowed to protect her. To protect the faith in her, to protect her sanity and the very thing she made him believe—goodness. A quirked smirk appeared on his face as he thought of her. The things she would say now, about these people, and how there must be goodness in them too. That had to be what she would say… it was so… Beth.

"Are you thinking about your woman?" Joe let out a loud snort of laughter. "'Cus only the thought of a woman can make a man smile like you just did right that second ago."

Stunned, Daryl shook his head and denied vehemently, "She ain't mine."

"Oh, so there is a lady love, eh? Where she at?"

_Fuck_. Daryl inwardly grimaced at his slip-up. Leave it to him to give away that there was a female with him. Currently though, it might not be a bad situation, considering she is missing. This may work out to his advantage; deceive them to find Beth and hightail it the hell out of there before they can hurt either one of them.

"She ain't 'round here. Gone missing," Daryl drawled out nonchalantly, calculating the next steps to take.

"That's too bad, young fellar. It's good to have a woman by your side in these hard times. Harder to keep 'em safe but you know what, at least they serve us a good purpose," Joe shouted merrily to the rest of the group so they can hear. They returned with snickers and raunchy agreements.

Daryl's hands clenched into fists, one around his crossbow, the other at his side. He had to bite his tongue to keep from saying something stupid to them. But how dare they speak so poorly of Beth? They see women as a source of entertainment—an outlet of pleasure to use and then discard. Not him, though. He never saw Beth as such. A part of him did wonder though, if the walkers hadn't caved into the funeral home, would he and Beth have gone a different route. God, the way she stared at him made his insides stir alive. She looked so damn angelic and beautiful by the candlelight—it was hard to erase that ethereal image of her, not that he wanted to.

He'll remember her. He'll never forget her face even if she died, or he. Whichever came first.

"Well I don't know about you fellars, but I need to take a piss and rest my legs. I ain't as young as you guys. Randy, go fetch us somethin' to eat why don'cha? Your loud ass mouth done and got us run out of that nice house we were in," Joe turned and started to bark orders. Surprisingly, the men followed it with albeit little to no objections.

The other bowman, Randy, the one who made the snide remark about his jacket stalked deeper into the forest as the rest of the group prepared a campsite for the night. Daryl had noticed then, that it was well into the afternoon. How long had he been chasing after the tire tracks? How long had he been walking with these group of bandits? His body ached, and his head pounded in his ears. He was beyond exhausted.

He kept a hawk's eye on each and every single one of the guys in this group, safe for Randy. He had yet come across two guys' name; they seem like an outcast of the group. One of them is significantly older than the rest, but he didn't seem to be as old as Joe—early fifties perhaps. The only evidence of his age is his large stomach and the bald spot on the crown of his head. The other, is a younger fellow, wearing a green cap backwards—a younger, innocent looking face. He was perhaps in his mid to late twenties. The other three, including Randy seemed to be in friendly relations with Joe.

He had to formulate a plan, to turn them against each other.

They each took a spot in the campsite; the younger male took the first shift in guarding. The sky had darkened into night, and Randy had yet to come back. Joe muttered under his voice about the lousiness of his friend, "If it weren't for his daddy telling me 'a take care of him. I would'a shot his ass and moved on!" he laughed and joked with the other two. The male with the balding head looked slightly uncomfortable, and the younger male turned away—pretending to ignore the conversation.

He was so damn exhausted, his spot under the tree felt mighty comfortable. Despite his better judgment, Daryl dozed off to sleep while resting against the trunk, clutching his crossbow to his body and a hand on his knife.

* * *

Morning came too quickly; Daryl awoke to sounds of rustling in the background. His eyes shot open to find a squirrel racing between trees. His stomach grumbled, as if reminding him he had not had a meal since the walkers invaded the funeral home. Grabbing his crossbow, he stalked into the woods, following the escaping rodent.

It hadn't taken him too long to find the squirrel on the tree of its nest. Hell, it wasn't hard for him to track at all. He aimed his crossbow and took his shot. Target hit. He could feel his stomach doing flips of joy at the notion of having something to eat. He thought of where to cook it, since a small rodent like such would hardly fill even one grown man up.

"That there squirrel is claimed." Daryl heard a voice behind him. Randy, the other bow man.

"Been out here since the sun came up. You see, the rules of the hunt don't mean jack around here," his posture was tense and annoyed, as if ready to strike. "Now that rabbit 'chu holding, is claimed, _Boy_." He purposely degraded him, trying to get him riled up.

"Claimed, whether you like it or not. So, if I's your, I'd hand it over. Now. Before you get a wishing you ain't never get out of bed this morning," Randy straightened his back, appearing taller than Daryl.

Daryl looked at him for a brief moment, studying him. "It ain't yours," he grounded out before brushing past him.

"No, I bet this bitch," Randy began, with a goading smirk on his face. "… got you all messed up. Hmm? Am I right?" He let out a raunchy laugh when he saw Daryl stop walking away from him. "Got 'chu walking 'round here like a dead man, who just lost hisself a piece of tail. Must'a been a good'un."

"Tell me somethin', was it one of the little ones?" A knowing smile plastered over his face. "Cuz, they don't last too long out here, if you know what I'm saying."

Daryl's hand hovered over his knife in its sheath, the suppressed every muscle in his body to not turn around and slit this guy's throat and cut out his tongue. He was damn tired of hearing these crude remarks about women, about Beth. So help him God, if this damn idiot said another word to him about Beth…

"Where can I find 'er? Since I see 'chu being all tense like that, she must be one sweet fuck," Randy taunted on, grabbing his package in his hand for emphasize.

He saw red. Fury burned in his blood, wanting to murder the man right here, right now. He dropped the dead squirrel and his crossbow onto the ground before launching at Randy, with his knife clutched in his hand. The poor fellow never saw the attack coming. He stumbled backwards and fell onto his back with a loud thud as branches snapped under him.

Daryl gripped his neck with one hand, and the other, with the knife, curled around the handle and punched his face repeatedly until Randy's blood began pooling in his mouth and nose. He gurgled for him to stop, his arms frantically pounding it against Daryl's shoulders in futile attempts to make him release his throat.

"You better fucking watch your mouth, _boy_," Daryl hissed after he leaned in closer to Randy's face, their nose only inches apart. "You're damn lucky that I ain't going to kill you right now. You better thank your daddy's friend in the camp over there." He punched Randy's battered face a few more times for emphasize, and shoved himself onto his feet.

He grabbed _his_ squirrel and crossbow and left the idiot bleeding there.

* * *

Daryl stalked back into the camp, his mind still sour from the situation with Randy earlier. A part of him wanted to leave and go search for Beth on his own, but he knew there was safety in numbers. Even if the numbers included a few psychopathic rednecks. He made a fire quickly and consumed his cook squirrel before he decided he should return.

His defenses were up, knowing Joe wouldn't be too happy about one of his own returning with a broken nose and possible, a broken jaw. He didn't care too much.

"Well son, you done and got his face all broken up," Joe quirked a smirk on his face. "What happened?"

Daryl narrowed his eyes at the older man's reaction. He couldn't detect if he was being serious or waiting for the right moment to strike. It was better to be on the cautious side. "He shouldn'ta been talking about my girl like that," he growled. His hands instinctively prepared his crossbow for a fight.

"Your girl? I thought you said she ain't yours?" Joe raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

"Well I lied; you got a problem with that?" Daryl decided it was best to play the role of the overprotective, worried boyfriend. If these were good people, which clearly they're not, they would back off and hopefully, keep their dirty paws off of Beth if they ever found her. Daryl didn't even bother to give them the benefit of the doubt.

Silence ensued between Joe and Daryl. The younger man, who was on guard last night, spoke up to break the tension. "We better start getting out of there, judging by the sun, it's nearly noon. We need to put as much space as we can between us and the walkers. The blood will attract them," he nodded at the puddle of blood on the dirt floor beside Randy.

Apparently his nose stopped bleeding. Well, damn.

Joe narrowed his eyes at Daryl, taking a long look at him—as if sizing him up. He hacked a cough and spit into the ground before turning his gaze away, beginning to direct orders for the men to clear out. He turned around and pointed a finger at Daryl, "You walk in front of me where I can keep my eyes on you."

"Like hell I'll do that. You'll fucking shoot me point blank," Daryl raised his crossbow and aimed it at Joe, ready for a standoff.

"Son, I ain't got time for this shit. Put that damn thing down and you can walk next to me like yesterday. Let's just pretend this shit ain't never happened. You don't get hurt, I don't get hurt. Deal?"

At some point, after the long, intense stare Daryl gave him, he relented and walked up to Joe. The group of six began heading towards the tracks again, with the younger fellow supporting Randy with his shoulders.

It had been a good few hours before they noticed something in the distance. A tunnel. As dark as a blackhole itself. As they got closer, an uneasy feeling in Daryl's chest began to bubble.

"Would 'chu look at that, there some tire tracks right there!" Joe pointed at the dirt covered patch beyond the rock and gravel of the train tracks.

Daryl's heart leaped in his chest—hope began to take hold of him and he grew anxious. With adrenaline pumping in his body, he soared over to the tracks. "They're the same," he whispered to no one in particular. The tire tracks were the same ones he was following earlier. It had to be Beth.

It had to be.

"Get your flashlights ready boys, we're going in for a fun-ride," a merciless smile appeared on Joe's face. He was eager, almost itching to be in a fight.

Daryl leaped back up onto the tracks and loaded his crossbow, ready to take on what's within the tunnel. As they stepped closer, the darkness began to engulf them. With the diminishing daylight, they had to hurry. As they inched closer to the entrance, then slowly step by step into it they heard a sudden class of metal against concrete.

A loud horn sounded through the tunnel—a car's horn. And within, a scream was echoed down the dark passage… the sound of a female's scream.

"Beth!" Daryl's eyes widen minutely in shock, before throwing all caution aside, snatching a flashlight and darted into the dark depths.

/

**JR**\- Chapter two done! Woohoo! Thanks for the reviews guys! Special thanks to _Slytherin-Princess_! I'm glad you made it out of nursing school alive! Now if only I can!

_Next up: Beth's side! _

Leave some feedback! Thanks for reading guys!


	3. Hell on Earth

**Take Me as I Am**  
_Chapter 3  
[Hell on Earth]_

Beth's head felt like dead weight on her shoulders. She couldn't remember what happened last night, or where she's at. All she could think about was looking into Daryl's depthless blue eyes and his shaggy beard. A monotone humming in the background and the jerking of her resting place alerted her that she was no longer on the ground. She was in some sort of vehicle—bound by her hands.

Her eyes shot open—_oh shit_. Panic began to set in.

She remembered last night as clear as day now that her mind wasn't muddled by whatever the hell that man covered over her nose and mouth.

She remembered running down the trail and towards the road, just as Daryl instructed her. There was only one walker that followed her out of the funeral home, but she didn't bother to look behind her a second time. A car, it was too dark to notice the color, pulled up beside her… and a man in black with a Roman collar stepped out, a beaded cross tossing roughly around his neck.

"Get in! Before they catch up, hurry!" said the middle aged man.

Beth thought she could trust a man of faith. She bobbed her head in a nod and shouted, "My friend, he's right behind me! I can't leave him behind!" She hobbled to his car, trying to keep her sack from slipping over her shoulders.

"Alright, he has to be quick!" she heard him say frantically before he duck into his car to what she thought was he grabbing a few weapons.

She turned around, her back facing him to search the path she was just on to look for Daryl. It turned out that she couldn't trust anyone, even a man in the garbs of a priest. A cloth with some sort of scent covered her mouth and nose, and the next thing she knew; she was fighting a losing battle against the man. The few seconds of struggle felt like hours, but she fought like a wildcat—scratching his face with her nails. But just like that, her eyes rolled to the back of her head and lost consciousness.

And here she was now, bound and thankfully not gagged but she had some sort of tape covering her mouth. She peered over her shoulder—it seems like she was on the floor of the vehicle, behind the passenger's side. Her body ached all over, her ankle throbbed sorely, making her wish Daryl was here massaging the pain away. Despite the pain, she craned her neck forward, titled her head a bit to the right to catch a glimpse of her captor.

He was indeed, the priest who 'helped' her last night. From the floor of the vehicle, she noticed a railroad crossing side fly by the backseat windows amongst the blur of green. Beth Greene was not a dunce by any means, and if Daryl had taught her anything right—it was tracking direction. The way that the car was jerking, she knew it had to be on the tracks. From the position of the sun, she judged it to be around noon, midday.

Her breath hitched in her throat—_midday_. If her captor had been driving since kidnapping her, they could be hundreds of miles away by now. Even if she managed to escape, would she even be able to find him… better yet… was Daryl even looking for her? Bile bubbled from her stomach to her throat at the thought of being abandoned by him. Dare she even try to hope he's coming after her?

She had to hold back a scoff, _why would he?_ She had nothing to offer him; in fact, she was more of a nuisance than of help to him.

"Damn it!" she heard her captor screech before the car jerked to side, running over some large bump and sliding down what sounded like a gravel or rock hill. Beth could only assume that they slide off the train tracks, at her level she was still unable to see below the treetops.

"God damnit! Stokes, watch the damn road why don't you?" a voice shrieked within the car.

That's new. Beth strained to see who the female in the passenger seat was, but she failed to see anything but a mass of dirty, long curly blond hair.

"I've been driving all night, lady. Cut me some damn slack!" she heard him say. Father Stokes, if she should even give him the holy honorifics, proceeded to open his driver's side door to inspect the damage. The other passenger proceeded to get out of the vehicle, presumably to irritate him more.

"If you don't want to drive, I can. Lord knows I'm the better driver here. Don't know why they even handed you the keys in the first place," the lady sneered, her disapproval apparent in her voice. "And besides, you didn't drive all night. You had to pull into that damn abandoned barn to take a fucking nap!" Adding fuel to her fire, Father Stokes argued back, vehemently.

Ah ha, so they hadn't been driving through the night. There was a good chance that she was close enough to track Daryl if she managed to escape. Beth wished she could cover her ears from their use of their Holy Father's name in vain as their argument escalated. But this was a new world, shrinking away from such minor unpleasantries was no longer acceptable.

At least, not if she wanted to survive.

She immediately began working loose her rope bonds. Her mouth tasted sour when she noticed the old, dried blood stains in the ivory colored woven rope. She wasn't their first victim.

She certainly will not let herself become one of them either. It felt like hours but she almost had the bond loosened to where she could slip a hand out until the driver's and passenger's doors opened and her two captors slipped into their seats. This time, the female was driving.

Beth took a long look at the older woman. She had to be in her late thirties to forties judging by the start of wrinkles on her face. She could be mistaken though; living in a zombie covered world doesn't exactly preserve age or beauty. She jumped in surprise when her female captor started the car sharply, and peeled the car back onto the tracks.

It had only been a most a minute or two before Beth noticed they were heading into a tunnel as the darkness engulfed the daylight. Panic began to set in anew. What were they thinking? Going into a dark tunnel when walkers were still lurking about? One could hardly tell the difference between night and day within the tunnel. In fact, it seemed even darker within this tunnel than it would be in a night sky with no moon or stars.

Her breath quickened, her pounding pulse deafened her ears as the instinct to defend and run began to settle in. She made fast work of her bonds, roughly yanking her hands from the loosen bonds, not caring that the top layers of her skin had been sheared off by the action. She groped around the floor in the darkness, hoping to find a weapon of sorts. The search almost felt fruitless until her fingers graced the cold metal of a familiar knife. In the darkness, she could make out the pattern of the stag handles of her hunting knife. She quickly did a limb check, rotating her ankles and hands as if to warm them up for a fight.

Just about when she steadied herself to attack, in the headlights beyond the windshield, a horde of walkers awoken to the stimulus of potential food. She swore she could see some of them smile at the thought of food just driving towards them. Before she had a chance to react, her female captor shrieked, jerking the steering wheel to turn right. The metal of the car groaned and squealed as it collided with solid concrete.

The next few seconds were a blur to Beth. She fell backwards, her back slammed against the backseat, her knife flying out of her hands. She heard Father Stokes whimper frightfully and her lady captor screaming for him to help her as a few walkers shattered the driver's side window.

Beth remained stunned in the backseat as she witnessed the horrific scene around her. The blond hair lady clumsily slammed her hand against the car's horn in attempts to escape the grasps of the walkers. In a desperate attempt, she unlocked the driver's side door and shoved it open, running into awaiting walkers with their mouths salivating at the sight of food. The lady screamed a bloodcurdling scream as one of the walkers lunged at her, grabbing her by her hair and sinking its contaminated teeth into the flesh of her shoulders. Just like ants, the walkers began swarming over the shrieking woman, tearing her flesh by the mouthful.

Their groans almost sounded satisfied as she watched them chew on bloodied flesh, the light of the undamaged headlight of the car provided at least that much clarity. She didn't want to die, not here… not now. Immediately, she sprang into action, driven by the rush of pure adrenaline. She thanked the Lord that the door without the walkers, the side facing the concrete wall was undamaged, and she was able slip out of the vehicle.

The walkers were too preoccupied with the body on the ground, to notice the silent click when she opened her door. She knew she didn't have too much time left. If she ran towards the direction where she came from, at least she'll have some light. And scanning from where she crouched now, she saw the dim light at the end of the tunnel. It was far, but she can make it. She won't fail—she refused to allow herself to. She owed it that much to her daddy. She rummaged through the car quickly to locate her dropped knife. It didn't take long to find it settled on the backseat of the car.

Just when she was about to make a mad dash towards the light, the passenger's side door behind her opened, and it clattered loudly against the concrete wall. Walkers looked up at the sound, their heads turning towards them. Father Stokes, oblivious to the walkers starting to creep towards the car, he sank onto his knees. "Take me with you, save me, please!"

Beth squinted in the dimness of the tunnel and noticed that his leg was at an odd angle. Her lips trembled—it was broken. How could she save him when she has an injured ankle herself? Beth backed away slowly, scared and confused. Her heart ached for him, despite what he had done to her. But he was alive… he was human.

"Please, please don't leave me… For the love of God, please don't leave me… " he sobbed, crawling to her on his knees and hands.

Her instincts screamed for her legs to run. But she couldn't leave him here knowing that walkers will be his fate. He was a man of faith… she couldn't turn her back on him. Shaking with adrenaline, she reached down and yanked him onto his feet with as much energy as she could muster and hauled his left arm over her shoulder, gripping her knife in the hand not supporting Father Stokes. "Be quick about it!" she hissed as she took a step forward, and he followed.

Most of the walkers, a minimum count of ten were done consuming the body of the blond hair lady. They heard the grunting of Father Stokes as he tried to hop forward, following Beth's every move. It didn't matter that they had a head start. The fact that they both have injured limbs didn't help either one of them one bit.

"Hurry, hurry up!" She shouted her voice cracked, scared and frantic.

With every step they took, the walkers took two.

As the two hurried their pace, the walkers followed, even faster.

It didn't take long until the walkers were only an arm's length behind them. The thought of being devoured by walkers didn't bode well for the both of them, eliciting a surge of energy for them to hobble faster towards the lighted end of the tunnel. It gave her hope, for the briefest of seconds that they were going to make it.

Until he tripped, taking her with him.

While he fell directly onto the ground in front of him, Beth was shoved into the side of the tunnel, slamming her shoulder against the concrete walls. It happened so suddenly, the walkers were suddenly upon them, clawing at them with ice cold hands, snapping their jaws of death at their faces. Father Stokes began screaming as the walkers began to sink their rotting teeth into his flesh. The sound of flesh and skin and clothes ripping roared thunderously in her ears.

No, she didn't want to die. She can't. She never did get to say goodbye to Daryl, her only connection to her missing and deceased family.

The walkers swarmed in around Father Stokes's screaming form, attracted by his scent of blood and shrieks of pain, "Help me! Help me!"

Beth wrestled with the flimsy, thin walker on top of her. One of her hands gripped at the walker's neck while the other searched for her fallen knife on the gravel floor. The sheer friction caused the gravel to pierce her skin, drawing blood into the air. As more and more walkers emerged from beyond the shadows, Beth prayed with all her soul.

_God, just light me a path… I can't die now, I can't!_

Momentary relief washed over her when her hand came across the handle of her knife, just as she had earlier. The great Lord up in the sky was definitely watching over her. Quickly, she clutched her knife tightly in her hand and plunged the knife into the walker's head. The decaying corpse went limp in her arms, and she kicked it to the side.

Not wasting a precious second, she scrambled onto her feet and started to make a mad dash towards the end of the tunnel. She only took but two steps before she heard Father Stokes's eerie voice. "Help… me…" he gasped as his innards where being slew about the walkers.

Beth turned briefly, teary eyed she shook her head. There was nothing she could do for him… she couldn't save him. '_I'm sorry_,' she mouthed, her voice failed her.

"God have… places… for people … who … turn against… his … people," he rasped, before the life in his eyes gave away and his body stilled. She turned away, shaken by the death of her captor and started to run towards the end again.

She knew the walkers were on her tail, some of them already had had enough of the fallen priest's body. With their appetites insatiable, they wanted more. They wanted her.

Her eyes blurred as tears began falling down her stained cheeks. She turned her back against a man of faith; she turned her back against a human. Her sobs racked through her body, unable to control her emotions, slowing her down. She despised the state of their world now. It was quite literally Hell on earth. Stricken with grief and incoordination, she slipped on one of the board planks of the railroad tracks.

This was it.

She knew the walkers were only a few steps away from her, with an injured ankle, she hardly gotten very far. Her energy spent, she laid there, numb. She didn't dare turn around to face her death in their eyes. A part of her just wished they would eat her brains first like how some old seventies horror movies were. At least then, she wouldn't have to endure the pain of being torn limb by limb.

She could feel the walkers' just inches away; she could imagine them starting to drop on their knees to devour her flesh. She could almost feel their teeth sinking into her skin.

But the pain of their jaws never came.

Instead, gunshots echoed in the tunnel, flying past her head. Something heavy dropped on top of her, a walker. She screamed, quickly scrambling away from the heavy corpse.

Beth looked up to find people, humans rushing past her to dispose of the few zombies closest to her. But the horde was too great, more and more began to gush out of the darkness of the tunnel. She sat there, numb and uncertain of what to do next. Even if she did, her energy was nonexistent.

"Beth! Beth!"

She didn't know if she was imaging him or not, but she saw Daryl crouching in front of her, with a worried but relieved look on his face. His lips were moving but she couldn't make out what he was saying.

"Damnit Beth, come to your fucking senses!" Daryl grasped her shoulders and shook her, hard.

Her head lolled about, but her eyes were still dazed but focused on him. "Daryl? Am I dreaming?"

"Why the fuck would I be in your dreams, girl? Get on my back, _now_!" He quickly spun on his heels and bared his back to her. "Damn it Beth, get on! I ain't leaving you here to be chewed on by these dead bastards!" He reached behind him quickly and slapped her across her face.

Beth's head snapped to her side, her gaze no longer distant. Her eyes saw Daryl's broad shoulders and back and jumped on, wrapping her legs around his lean waist. She heard some commands from a male in the background, but she couldn't make out what he said.

The gunfire ceased and grunting of the undead began to dwindle before it vanished completely. The tunnel grew brighter and brighter as she was being jostled on Daryl's back as he ran for safety. The sudden glare of sunlight onto her skin burned her, and blinded her vision. She clenched her eyes shut and buried her face as deep into his hair as she could.

All her emotions, her doubts, her concerns vanished for the time being. All she could focus on was the warmth and scent of earth and sweat emanating from her savior. After all, he searched for her. She knew without a doubt, he was here to save her.

He was her hero; her knight in shining armor, through and through.

/

**JR-** He saves her! Yay! But the danger's not over yet folks, there's always a price to pay for helping someone out.

_Thanks for reading, please leave some reviews and feedback! It helps us writers get motivated and get the brain juices a-flowing! _


	4. Grace of God

**Take Me as I Am**  
Chapter 4  
[_Grace of God_]

_'… Save me… save me please…'_

She spun on her heels to come be greeted by the decomposing body of the dead Father Gabriel.

_'You turned your back on me…'_

She shook her head vehemently, unable to voice her words at this given moment. She took a step back, her arms groping the air around her hoping to find something of use. Nothing. Darkness surrounded her, as dark as the night with no moon. Yet, the dead Father's face had light shining upon him—as if the sun was directly above them.

His decaying face inched closer and closer, but where can she run to? Where can she hide? There was nothing around that could help her. She shrieked frightfully as his face zipped right in front of her, their nose only a couple of inches apart. Frozen in shock and fear, she could do nothing but whimper and stare at his dead, soulless dark eyes.

_'You're going to Hell, Bethany Greene…'_

"No!" she cried, her voice was etched with doubt. "I ain't going to die… I'm not going to... No!"

_'Oh… but you're so wrong! You're already dead!'_

His face began to bounce around her, taunting her. His sinister laughter filled her ears, and her soul with doubt and fear. She crouched down onto the ground, her hands covering her ears hoping to drown out his jeering words.

_'No one can save you now… you're going to Hell, Bethany Greene!'_

In the darkness, she felt the ground beneath her feet give and suddenly, the sensation of falling overtook her body. She screeched in fear, unconsciously screaming his name before she felt the cold hands of death gripping around her neck as she fell.

"DARYL!"

-0-

"BETH!" He knew she was having some sort of nightmare, but that didn't stop him from getting irritated at her thrashing and whimpering while he was carrying her on his back. Like some sort of pack ass. In the past few minutes, her thrashing had gone from little cottontail kicks to full-blown kangaroo crazy.

Because obviously, having a huge crossbow hanging across his chest wasn't strenuous enough. Or an over-hundred pound girl on his back, but that said girl was kicking the hell out of his thighs. And he has had enough.

He jerked to a stop in midstride, his mind made up on dropping her flat on her ass—that is until he heard her soft sob for help and suddenly went still.

"… Daryl… please… save…"

He felt her hot tears drip onto the bare skin of his neck where her head rested, instantly regretting his would-be hasty decision in harming her. It alarmed him that she had grown limp so suddenly after nearly half an hour of thrashing about. "Beth?"

He turned his head and tried to catch a glimpse of her face from the corner of his eyes. All he saw was the mess of blond hair on his shoulders. "Beth!" he tried again, this time he jostled her on his back in attempts to rouse a response from her. He started to panic, swearing loudly when he realized she was hardly breathing.

Daryl didn't care to, nor want to, explain what was going on when he got several curious glances his way when he raced to a nearby tree, gently setting Beth onto the foliage covered ground. "Beth?" he called out her name with a sense of urgency—almost a plea. He gripped the sides of her shoulders, and like earlier in the tunnel, he shook her.

Her head bobbed with the action, but she remained unconscious. He saw her grimace in her sleep, and almost immediately a series of choking sounds emitted from her throat. Her lips seemingly looked paler by the second.

"FUCK!" Daryl bellowed in frustration. He desperately looked around when the men gathered around him—they weren't going to do anything for him. Frantic, his eyes darted to the trees, to Beth's pale face, and to the sky, hoping to find an answer. When he looked at Beth the fourth time, he thought he saw blue in her lips. "God damnit, Beth!"

His first instant thought was to slap her back into their world, as he did in the tunnel. But what good would brute force do for something that seemed to be suffocating from nothing, and he immediately decided against hurting her further. There was only one way he knew of that could save her. Without wasting another second, he settled her onto her back, quickly pressing his ear against her chest to listen for her heart beat. It was fast, rapid—almost frantic.

One hand pinched her nose closed between his thumb and index finger; the other tilted her chin up towards the sky. He sucked in a gust of air before bending over and roughly covered her mouth with his. He breathed for her. Once… twice… three times… Yet she remained choking in her state of unconsciousness. He tried again, inhaling deeply; he once again covered her lips with his.

After the sixth breath, he heard Joe speak.

"That's enough son… I don't think she's gonna make it. It's best we just put her out of her misery."

"Any of you son-a-bitches touch her, I'm gonna skin you alive," Daryl snarled, his focus still on Beth. "She ain't gone here yet! I ain't done with her!" In his final desperation, Daryl pulled her up by her arms and rested her back against the tree once more. He pinched off her nose with one hand, the other wrapped around her neck, gently squeezing it. He took in several deep gusts of air, and readied himself to try and resuscitate her. He knew this position wasn't the optimal position, but it allowed him better access to her mouth in the long term. And he was willing to do this for hours, if need be. He wasn't going to give up on her.

He dived in again, covering her mouth with his and began pushing air into her lungs. Once, twice, and a third. He pulled back gasping for his own air only for a few seconds before breathing for her again. The world felt as if it was at a standstill around him. Nothing mattered more to him than saving her life. By his fourth attempt, he was growing increasingly lightheaded—his own body starved for oxygen.

Grown men don't cry.

Grown Dixon men certainly won't cry.

But damn did his heart ache when the doubt of her reviving struck a nerve. Both his hands fell onto her shoulders, his head slumped forward in defeat. He hung his head low, touching his forehead to hers. For as long as he remembered, he never did pray or had any faith in God. But at this moment, Daryl clenched his eyes shut and prayed.

_Listen, God… J. C… Jesus Christ… If you're listening up there… you ain't gonna take her from me. You can't. She's the only person closest to a family I have left. I don't even know if the others are alive… but if by your Grace that they're not… the least you can do is spare her. Please… damnit… I'm begging you. Please…_

Dixon men don't cry… but that thought didn't stop the sparse tears that slipped from the corner of his eyes despite his self-control. He felt Beth go silent altogether—her gasping and choking had stopped. A part of him wondered if she died, and that she will be turning into one of the walkers and wake up to eat his flesh. God, how much he would hate to put a knife through her skull. He didn't know if he could it to her. Killing Merle, walker Merle, was the hardest thing he ever did in his life. He didn't know if he had the strength to put an end to Beth as well.

Muddled by his thoughts, he nearly missed the gasp of air and the sudden shake of her body— a low groan emitted from her throat. His hands instinctively released her and sank backwards onto his heels. He found the handle of his knife, ready to defend. A sickening thought of removing her jaw and arms and putting a collar around her popped through his head. If it came to that, he would do it… For all he knew, she was the last piece of what was family from the prison.

His steel blue eyes flew up to her face, expecting to see the clouded, dull grey eyes of a dead walker. Instead, red teary crystal blue eyes stared right back at him.

"Daryl…" he heard her hoarse, _alive_ voice pass through her lips.

He let out the breath he didn't know he was holding, "What… what the hell?!" A wave of relief rushed over him, by the grace of God, he supposed, Beth lived. He released the grip to his knife and reached out in front of him and pulled her flushed into his chest. His arms encircled around her shoulders and laid his chin atop the crown of her head. "What the hell was that Beth?" he scolded, the anger missing from his voice.

"I… I couldn't wake up… I knew I was dreaming but," she sobbed, her arms gripped the back of his vest in a tight fist. "But I couldn't wake up… it felt like someone was choking me… he was telling me that I was going to Hell… and for a moment there…" she pulled away from his embrace and looked into his eyes. "… I believed him. I almost gave up. I almost…"

Daryl shushed her, brushing her tears off with the back of his hand. He brushed back her unbound blond hair from her face, thanking the Lord silently. He handed her his container of water and motioned for her to drink. "Yeah, for a second there I thought you were gonna come back and try 'nd bite me," he cracked a watery grin on his face, trying to lighten her mood.

He supposed it worked when a small tinkling laugh, almost inaudible, escaped her lips. "Good thing too," she began; her eyes twinkled with mild mirth, and handed the bottle back to him. "I don't think you will taste very appetizing."

For a moment there, everything felt normal. Almost… good.

That is, until he heard the men behind him snicker and whisper snide comments amongst themselves. "I bet she knows what she's talking about there, huh?"

Daryl saw Beth's disposition change from relaxed to uncertain, alert and almost frightened. She had every mind to be scared. She was the only female for possible miles around, amongst a group of men who undoubtingly know the taste of a woman. He looked straight into her eyes, his gaze firm and unyielding. He hoped she would get his message that he was going to protect her without having him to say it. He saw the light bob of her head, and the small reassuring smile on her face.

She was just too damn trusting sometimes, he couldn't help but think.

"Hey now folks, we don't use that kind of language around the presence of a lady," Joe spoke up, taking a step closer to Daryl and Beth.

Daryl immediately tensed, and positioned himself for a fight.

"Whoa, now there, Daryl. Easy does it. I ain't gonna hurt you or the girl. I don't go that way," he tilted his chin upwards, with pride and dignity. "I'm suggesting we make camp around here somewhere since the little lady had such an adventure. I'm getting beat too. Is she up for some walking?" he nodded at Beth.

Daryl nodded, and gruffly answered him, "Yeah, she is."

"Well, alright then. Let's move out then folks," Joe turned his back to Daryl and began heading back towards direction of the railroad tracks.

Daryl didn't bother to wait for the men to follow. He didn't want to be behind the group. In order to protect her from the dangers of men, he had to make a statement. He turned around and crouched in front of Beth, looking into her eyes. "Can you walk?" he whispered in his deep baritone husk.

He saw her put her injured foot on the ground and tried to push herself up, but was only partially successful.

"It's sore, but I think I can manage," she whispered to him.

Daryl nodded, stepped beside her and slipped an arm around her slim waist and had her wrap her arm around his shoulder. He hauled her up on her feet, his body supporting her injured ankle. He felt her knees give slightly from the sudden increase of weight around his shoulders. "Are you sure you can walk? I can carry you on my back."

She flashed him a tired grin, "I think I'm done with sleeping for the next few days… let's get going."

"Hm," he nodded. With him supporting most of her weight from her injured ankle, they made their way to the middle of the group; behind Joe but in front of the other guys. As they got onto the tracks, Daryl lowered his hand from her waist to the swell of her hips and pulled her closer to him. "Play along," he whispered low enough for her to hear only, keeping his gaze forward.

"'Kay," she whispered. "I trust you, Daryl."

/

**JR-** It was a bit slow in the beginning, but at least they're together now!

I'm going to amend my first chapter Author note about Beth's age. I'll go in and fix it later. The first chapter she'll be 19, and 18 from the second. Sorry folks, I got my ages all confused.

Thanks for the reviews so far everyone, and thanks for reading this story of mine. I don't personally answer reviews through PM but if there are questions or concerns expressed in reviews, I will post them up with the following chapters in my end Author Notes. But feel free to PM me if you like!

_I kinda-secretly-dream-wish for more reviews at night! _

_Please review and thanks for reading! _


	5. Demons

**WARNING: EXPLICIT VIOLENCE IN THIS CHAPTER. DO NOT READ IF YOU WILL BE OFFENDED BY THIS MATERIAL. **

**Take Me as I Am**  
Chapter 5_  
[Demons]_

"Alright folks, here be a good place to rest for tonight," Joe nodded at the metal warehouses with rusted junk cars in the yard. "Them car workshops offer some mighty good protect from these walkers once can we secure it. We'll head out again tomorrow morning." He pointed at the closest building, its rusted door partially protected by a raised porch rail.

Some of the men grunted in response, while a few just followed behind the others silently. They approached the door cautiously, readying themselves for the unexpected.

Daryl reached over at his belt and withdrew the knife Beth had dropped inside the tunnel earlier this morning. "Hang on to this and don't lose it again. Ever. And don't leave this spot 'til I say you can, got it?"

He watched her bright blue eyes burn with defiance, a frown marred her dirt covered face. "I ain't a kid. You don't have to talk to me like that."

He stared at her for the longest moment, emotions absent from his face. He knew she wasn't a child. Hell, there had been so many occasions where she did prove having more skill and grit than many of the old friends in the prison. Still, a part of him never wanted her to leave his side again. He hated being alone. He caught her angry frown change into a curious, questioning look when he stared at her for a bit too long for her comfort. "I ain't say you were," he gritted out before abruptly releasing her hip and shoulders to join the men in clearing the building.

It didn't take long before the last of the walkers were disposed of and tossed to a corner of the lot, out of sight and out of mind. Daryl wiped the sweat off his forehead with the sleeves of his jacket and entered the building to do a double take of the security of the place.

Like Joe had said, it was certainly a safer place than a house once the lot has been secured. The windows were high up, out of the uncoordinated climbing of the walkers. Walls made of reinforced steel and concrete, with two metal doors. If it weren't for these men with him and Beth, he would've set this place up as a safe house.

"So, she must be that little bitch that has you wound up on her little finger huh?" Randy sneered behind him as they made their way towards the exit of the building.

Daryl stopped mid-stride, his shoulders tensed up considerably. His nostril flared as he took in a deep breath of the oxygen rich air as his heart began racing in anticipation. He was going to kill this bastard, right here… right now. No more excuses.

Not sensing the impending doom his way, Randy continued his taunting. "Man, if I had me a nice piece of ass like hers… I'd be all wound up after her tail too. Fuck, you mind sharing?"

Daryl gripped the handle to his knife, and with a rustle of his clothing, he closed in the distance between him and Randy. His knife effectively found its way to the man's throat, just a light breath away from slitting it wide open. "I dare you to fucking say that to me one more time, motherfucker."

His eyes narrowed when Randy's grin grew wider, laughter racked through his body and echoed within the workshop. "What? Did I say somethin' wrong, fellar?" He put his arms up to each side, a mocking gesture of surrender. "You have my deepest, upmost sincerest apologies," Randy jeered, not caring that the sharp blade pierced against his skin, leaving angry red streaks alongside his neck.

Daryl had every intention to just jerk his hand and end the life of this miserable excuse for a man, if not for the hand that gripped his right shoulder.

"I ain't gonna say he's a gentleman, Daryl. He's got a foul mouth just like his daddy. You got a choice here, and if you choose the wrong one… well I can't guarantee your safety here in this group," the person, Joe reasoned, his grip on his shoulder tightened firmly. "You gotta think about the little lady too," he added in a whisper, allowing for his ears to hear only.

Daryl's insides burned with rage—he was so damn angry he could spit blood. But he knew Joe was right, as much as he didn't want to. Here, it was just him and Beth against six grown, armed men. It would be a straight path to Hell if he killed Randy now. Eventually, he'll get his. Daryl bit his tongue and shoved Randy roughly, causing the jeering male fall onto his back. He shrugged off Joe's hand and stalked out to the tracks, where Beth waited for him.

He saw her concerned stare as he approached closer, but he didn't say a word. Making sure the knife was secured around its sheath on her hip; he hoisted her up in his arms.

"What is it?" She asked, concerned.

"Nothin'," he grunted as he made his way up the few steps of stairs. He then settled her onto her feet. After straightening his posture, he reached over and put his hands on her shoulders and stared at her intently. "Stay where I can see you," he said in a hushed tone after a long pause, then released his hands and stalked into the building.

-0-

A part of her wondered what could've made Daryl so moody. It had only been yesterday that he mentioned staying in the funeral home for good. She wished that plan had come true, maybe then… maybe then she wouldn't have to fight her demons.

The chill of the night wind caressed her body, raising the hairs straight against her skin. The thought of spending the night with the group of strangers made her heart race in anxiety, the only thing that gave her hope and reassurance was Daryl. She knew, without a doubt, he'll protect her. Taking in a shaky breath, she took entered the rust and fuel scented building.

She felt like a chunk of bloody meat in a lion's den.

All eyes were on her, analyzing her every move. With her head held high, her gaze steady, she tensed her injured ankle and walked over to Daryl, settling close by him. She hoped she didn't look like she was limping too much—it would only mean she was an easy target. As soon as she sat onto the musty floor, the group returned to their duties.

"Claim," a few of them began saying, tossing their bags over the rusted cars.

Beth watched them warily; questions began forming in her head. Where they claiming the cars with a word? From the corner of her eye, she saw the other bowman, Randy, watching her.

"Claim!" he hollered loudly and spat noisily onto the floor in front of him, all the while watching her.

She turned her head, fully facing him, a glare of disgust in her eyes. She scoffed at his insinuating grin when he wiggled his eyebrows and humped the air in front of him. Her stomach churned with fear, knowing exactly what he wanted, but she didn't let it show. She couldn't. Instead, she turned her back to him and scooted closer to Daryl, who had his eyes clenched shut, his posture tense.

She let out a soft sigh of exhaustion after she tucked her right arm under her head, laying on her right side facing Daryl's body. She wasn't going to lie and say she wasn't tired. But she hated the thought of going to sleep. Awake, she could control her thoughts and actions, but in her dreams… if she were in that nightmare again, she feared Daryl won't be able to save her.

The thought of being taunted in her dreams unnerved her—it wasn't so much the dream, but the reason why she was having it. It was out of her hands, she couldn't have saved him even if she wanted to… but God, did she have such a heavy sense of regret and guilt in her chest. Tears welled up in her eyes, silently slipping from the corner of her eyes and onto the cold concrete floor. A soft sob escaped her lips, her eyes shot up to see if Daryl noticed. Thankfully, his eyes remained closed as if he was slumbering.

She adjusted her position, sniffling as she turned to her left side, her back facing Daryl. She curled her legs closer to her body, conserving as much heat as possible against the chilly floor. A shaky sigh escaped her lips; she tried hard to stop her tears.

She didn't leave God behind. No, He's still deep within her soul but… was He? The words of the fallen priest had cut her deep. It made her realize that she hadn't prayed or thank the Lord for anything since the fall of the prison—since her mother's death. She would be lying if she said she didn't blame a part of the apocalypse on God. Every time she closed her eyes, she could hear the fallen priest's words of the promise of death and Hell. A part of her felt he was right—she felt as if she betrayed the Lord, and it tore her insides up in shreds.

She didn't know if her sobs had awoken one of the men when she heard a loud cough and clearing of the said man's throat. She bit her bottom lip in attempt to stop her crying.

"Beth," she heard Daryl's whisper for her.

She sniffled and wiped the tears from her eyes with her sleeve, turned slightly and looked over her shoulder. "Yeah?" she whispered back, hoping her nose didn't sound too stuffed. It was obvious that she had been crying. She didn't hear him respond; instead she felt his arm around her waist and tugged at her lightly.

"Com'ere," he commanded softly, pulling her towards his body.

Beth submitted; the thought of another human's warmth comforted her. She scooted backwards until her back was just a couple of inches from pressing her body against his.

"Lift your head."

She lifted her head, allowing him to slip his arm under her head, serving as a soft cushion against the hard floor. "Thank you," she whispered her voice still stuffy and hoarse. She felt his body shift to the other side, as if reaching for something. A rustle of plastic sounded and she was soon covered in a small ragged blanket. A small smile grew on her lips, "Thank you," she whispered again.

"Hm," he hummed in response. After a brief moment of silence, she heard him speak. "Somethin' pestering you?"

Beth shook her head lightly, "No." She didn't hear another word from him after that. She was thankful that Daryl Dixon was here to comfort her, out of everyone she could hope for, she was glad it was him. With his body heat radiating off his body and the comfort of his blanket, she soon drifted into a dreamless sleep.

-0-

She awoke to the sensation of heavy pressure in her pelvis, telling her she needed to relieve her bladder. Groggily, she cracked her eyelids apart. The building was still dark with the exception of the ethereal rays of the moon streaming through the windows. She slowly eased herself up, careful not to wake Daryl up. Somehow throughout the night, she ended up turning her body around and had laid her head close to his chest.

A small blush crept onto her face; she had never slept with a man before. Except when she crawled into her parent's bed when she was little during thunderstorms—but that didn't count.

She scooted herself from under the blanket and headed towards the door. At first she thought of using an inconspicuous corner of the building, but the thought of one of the guys watching her urinate made her stomach churn something foul. She reached for the bolt to unlatch it when she realized it was already unlocked. A part of her worried if someone snuck into the building, but if it did happen that way, Daryl would know.

The dull, pressurized pain of her bladder forced her to not dwell on these thoughts any further, and silently she slipped into the short concrete patio. She didn't dare to leave the door unattended, so she settled for the spot right below the staircase. That way, she can keep an eye on the door and have a safe way of alerting the others should a horde come.

She made short work of her jean button and zipper, slipping her jeans past her knees, she crouched down. A part of her wished there was toilet paper, and a hot shower, but she had to make do. Quickly finishing her business, she pulled up her jeans and stepped away from the puddle and started to secure the zipper.

"Hey gal," she heard a voice rasp in her ear. Before she could turn around to see who it is, a calloused hand clasped over her mouth and nose, an arm encircled around her waist and dragged her to the corner of the building. "I'd shut that screaming of yours before I cut your throat," he said the sharp point of a blade pressed against her throat.

Beth thrashed in his grip, pushing and clawing at his flesh with her nails, hoping she could get away. She screamed Daryl's name against the palm of the assaulter's hand.

"Shut the fuck up!" he hissed, withdrawing the hand that covered her mouth and slapped her face hard, rendering her dizzy and uncoordinated. Her arms, weakened, pushed against him once again, her legs kicking against his shins. She felt his sweaty hands grip at her breasts, squeezing it so hard she knew it would bruise if she were to live past this.

Seconds past, her squirming and kicking did nothing to deter her assaulter. A shift of his head, she saw the face of her assaulter in the moonlight through her tear stained eyes—Randy.

"I claimed you, you hear? You're mine," he rasped in his southern drawl, the stench of alcohol filled her nose, dragging his slick tongue against the length of her cheek.

Beth shrieked in terror against the palm of his hand. She felt the tip of the blade disappear from her throat and pierced at her collarbone. The sound of her clothing being ripped in half by the sharp blade sent waves of sheer terror up her spine. For the briefest of moments, he looked into her eyes—wild, and maniac-like.

He yanked her torn shirt past her shoulders, exposing her breasts to the chill of the night air. His hand that once covered her mouth gripped at her neck tightly, cutting off her ability to scream. His other hand made quick work of her unbuttoned jeans, and began to pull the fabric down.

A sudden urge of adrenaline coursed through her body, rearing herself up, she kneed Randy in between his legs. He staggered back momentarily, his face scrunched up in pain. Before Beth could catch her breath, he was on her again, this time; he threw her onto the dirt ground and straddled over her. He pinned her arms above her head with one hand, the other began undoing his belt.

"Stupid bitch, now you're gonna suck my cock to make it up to me," he slapped her across her face again to deter her momentarily. He freed himself finally and inched up her body, his crotch just a few inches away from her face.

She screamed and her head thrashed side to side violently, she jerked her body up with her legs, sending him sprawling on top of her.

"I said quit your mouthing and take it like the bitch you are!" He hissed, his hands moved down to her knees and began to pry it apart.

Beth frantically tried to kick him off of her, but she failed. Her arms flailed about, hoping to find something of use. Her hand touched the cold surface of a rock. Gripping it tightly, she slammed the rock against his skull repeatedly.

Randy screamed in pain, throwing himself to his side, clutching his head.

She saw the cold blade of his knife glisten under the moonlight, at the same time, so did Randy. She had to get it before he did. She got onto her knees and started to crawl towards the blade when she felt his hands on the band of her jeans, pulling it down past her thighs. "No! Get off me! Daryl! Daryl!" she screeched as she tried to get away from him mounting her in an animalistic position.

_God help me, please! Please!_

She felt him grip her hips, bile bubbled up her throat. She was so close, she was almost there. The blade of the cold metal brushed against fingertips when she felt him pull down her underwear.

_Oh God, please…_

"BETH!" She heard Daryl's voice.

"DARYL!" She screamed in return, but she knew he wouldn't reach her in time. She didn't want to lose her virginity by being raped. She would rather die. She stretched her arm a final time, praying she could reach that knife.

She felt his offending appendage pressing against her inner thigh. Horrified, she surged forward, slamming the front of her body against the ground and grasped the blade's handle in her hand. Twisting her body in an utmost uncomfortable and painful position, she turned and shoved the blade deep into Randy's shoulder just before he was able to penetrate her.

Randy howled in pain, shot up on his feet only to fall and lean against the wall, screaming in pain.

"Beth! FUCK!" Through teary eyes, she saw Daryl frozen in place, a few feet away from her and her assaulter. Within a blink of her eyes, Daryl darted past her, fury burning in his eyes. She cried as she pulled her panties and jeans up, her body ached to her bone all over. She heard the others file to the side of the building, armed and wary not knowing what was happening.

"You fucking bastard! I'm gonna fucking kill you!" She heard Daryl bellow. He pulled the knife from Randy's shoulder and shoved him onto his back. Randy didn't—couldn't, put up a fight before the knife descended into his throat. Daryl yanked the knife back, drenched in thick red blood; he slammed the knife repeatedly into Randy's skull until he went limp. Even then, Daryl continued to stab the bastard's skull until there was nothing but the base of his jaw and splattered remains left.

-0-

He wanted this bastard dead. He should've tortured the fucker first, he thought as he was driving the knife into his head. He wasn't going to stop. Not until there was nothing left but bones and scattered pieces of flesh.

"Daryl…" through the slushing of bloodied flesh, he heard her soft plea. His chest heaved rapidly, still not satisfied with his work.

"Please… Daryl…" he heard her soft sobs behind him.

He sneered at the limp body, tore a piece of the body's clothing and wiped his hands clean. "Good fucking riddance," he hissed and spat at the corpse.

He turned around to find her exposed, torn shirt and undone jeans—he was unable to meet her eyes. It ate at his insides to no end that he wasn't there to protect her. If she hadn't stabbed her assaulter in the shoulder, she could've… No.

He refused to be so cowardly. She was able to hold Randy off enough for him to dispose of him that was the fact. And now, she needed him. _Needed him_, desperately. He shrugged off his angel-backed vest and slipped it around her shoulders before crouching down on his knees. His hand reached in front of him to examine her bruising cheek, but she flinched away.

_God_, how his heart ached in his chest when she saw the terror in her eyes. She was afraid—of him… possibly of everyone. "I ain't gonna hurt you honey," he whispered, his tender and apologetic. He watched her bottom lip tremble, her tears pouring out of her eyes in rapid succession. "Beth, I'm here. I ain't gonna hurt you. I'm not going to hurt you," he repeated.

He waited for her to nod her head before he reached forward to caress her cheek. Her skin looked paler than the moon itself. It was no good staying in this group any longer. It could happen again. At least with one down, there was one less person to fight when they had to escape.

"Com'ere," he softly commanded, opening his arms. "I ain't got nothin' to hide honey. You know I won't hurt you." He didn't want to reach towards her until she was ready, until he knew she trusted him. He saw her clench his vest against her body tightly, her knuckle turning white with the force. "You trust me, Beth… don't you?"

She sniffled, wiping her tears with her sleeve. Slowly, she inched closer to him. She was still hesitant, unsure of the anything… everything.

"Honey, it ain't safe out here with all this blood. We gotta get inside. Come on, Beth. It's just me. I'll protect you, Beth… I swear it… this time I will protect you."

He didn't expect her to throw herself into his body, almost knocking him off balance. But he was grateful that she did. He could hear the groans of the undead closing in on them, attracted to the scent of the blood. As much as he hated the thought, they would have to stay in the building for a couple of days for her to recover and the walkers, to hopefully go on by.

Daryl enclosed his arms around her and tucked her safe in his arms before lifting her up and headed towards the building. A part of him wished he kept the bastard alive and string him up on a tree to let the walkers eat him alive. Enough of that, Beth needed him.

"I'm here Beth. I'm here, I'm sorry… I'm sorry I wasn't there to prevent this," he whispered in her ears after he brushed past the group of shocked males. He hated himself for not being to prevent it. He swore he would protect her, how will he be able to keep her trust knowing he failed her this time?

"It's not your fault Daryl," she whispered in the softest voice, barely audible to his ears if her lips weren't by his ears.

"Beth, I'll protect you from now on," Daryl promised, this time, he'll be damned sure he will keep his promise to keep her safe. "Stay with me, honey, I'll protect you," he repeated to her like a mantra.

After a short silence, he felt her nodded. "I know, Daryl…. I know. I trust you."

/

**JR-** Wow, almost 4,000 words! Have to work in 5 hours but I had to finish this chapter before sleeping.

Let me know what you guys think!

(P.S- I like to write and read in the 3/4 to 1/2 page format on fanfiction, so the story may be more pleasing if you switch to that view if you haven't already! Thanks for reading!)


	6. Faith

**Take Me as I Am**  
Chapter 6_  
[Faith]_

After four long hours, the horde of walkers finally made their way past the small lot. The scent of the dead bastard's blood attracted more of the undead than Daryl expected. Initially, it had only been a handful of stragglers, but as the minutes passed, the handful of stragglers turned into a bloodied, decaying mass of the undead tearing through the property in waves.

It was strange. He had only seen such large hordes such as the one that just passed by only in the cities or when a loud explosion or sound attracted them. It unnerved him when the undead started to bump into the sides of the building and eventually the door.

It was almost like they were testing to see if any prey was in there.

Daryl had to leave Beth in a safe corner to help the others secure the doors as quietly as possible to prevent the walkers from barging into the building. Metal shelving and crates were carefully placed in front of the doors as a barricade while the younger man of the group climbed up onto a steel rack secured into the wall, observing the horde for possible signs of infiltrations.

At least now that the horde is gone, he can return to Beth. Still huddled in the corner where he left her, he made his way over to her slowly. "Beth?"

He saw her stir, and a part of him knew she wasn't in any sense 'okay' but he had expected to see her crying, sad… something. Instead, her blue eyes were devoid of emotion—as if the life had been sucked out of her.

"You okay?" It was a stupid question to ask. Of course, she was not okay—but Daryl wasn't much of a conversationalist when it came to times like these.

She nodded; the action made her tousled hair partially covered her face like a veil. He watched her pull his vest around her shoulders tighter as she tried to suppress a shudder.

He reached over to his black plastic bag where he had stashed an extra shirt. He dug within the bag for a few seconds before his fingers came in contact with the garment. Pulling it out of the bag, he grimaced at the stench emitting from it. Sure enough, he hadn't the chance to wash it since leaving the prison—but it'll do.

"It smells like sweat and shit, but I rather you stink than prance around with a torn shirt," he said to her in a low voice. He aired out the shirt by flapping it a few times and kneeled in front of Beth. "Well go on, what you waiting for?"

Instead of doing as he asked, Beth just stared at him with those lifeless eyes. He pitied her, he did. But they had to keep going, the longer they were with this group, the higher chance the incident will happen again. At this point, he had a feeling they were in danger since he just massacred the leader of the group's friend. He had to get Beth out of here. Now that the horde's gone, it was a good of a time as any to escape when he heard Joe suggesting to camp for a few more days here.

He rather risk a chance with a horde tearing his guts out than let another man touch her like that again. During the entire time securing the doors, he couldn't help but blame himself for not watching her carefully, especially when Randy made such raunchy remarks. He didn't feel sorry for killing that bastard, if he were to live… well Beth wouldn't be his only victim.

"Beth, come on… just put the damn shirt on," Daryl hissed, growing impatient and irritated at the thought of dead Randy hurting another female. When she didn't make a move, he swooped in and grabbed one of her arms and slipped it through the sleeve of the dirty shirt. Despite her flinching away from his contact, he made quick work of putting it on her.

When he was done, his hands rested on her shoulders. He had every mind to scold her for being a baby, but as a tear slipped from her eye and down her cheek, he bit his tongue.

Daryl sighed, a bit torn as to what to do. He hardly had the experience of comforting women… that was Merle's job. His brother had always been the smooth talker, and well he… he just followed Merle around.

As more tears began cascading from her eyes, something stirred within him. He made a promise to protect her, and in her vulnerable state, he shouldn't be an indifferent asshole to her. Awkwardly, he brushed the stray strands of hair shielding her face and tucked it behind her ears.

"Beth, look at me."

She shook her head and whispered through her tears, "No… I'm okay… I'm fine."

"Don't lie to me, girl. Just… look at me," Daryl cupped the back of her neck, base of her skull with his hand and tucked a finger under her chin with his other. He tilted her chin up until her face was parallel to his. It was quite apparent she intended to avoid looking at him at all costs.

He had to do something drastic.

He shifted his hands until they cupped each side of her face, pulling it down gently; he lowered her face and pressed his lips against her hairline above her forehead.

Her head snapped up so quickly, it collided with his chin, sending him toppling onto his side. He cradled his chin with his hands and whined, "Damn it Beth! Fucking A, that hurts! The one time I try something different. God damn!"

In an instant, Beth was kneeling by him, pressing her cold hands against his, in attempts to make it better. "Oh gosh, I'm sorry Daryl. I- I didn't mean it!" Her voice was apologetic, her eyes glistened with worry for him despite the fact she also sustained some sort of injury to her head from the collision.

"You better be damn sure you didn't mean it! Shit, that hurts. Think you broke my chin," he hissed, pulling his hands back to his view to check for blood, a look of mock anger in his face.

"Well… well you shouldn't have done that! It surprised me!" Her worry gaze was soon replaced an irritated one. "What were you doing… catching me off guard like that! You should've let me known first or something."

Daryl's protests dwindled to nothing as he laid on the cold floor, watching her rant to herself. He was glad she still had fire within her, the look she gave him when he started to blame her for hurting him assured him that she was not all broken. She had him worried there, when she was so unresponsive and distant from him. He never wanted that from her… he wanted to be the one she trusted with life. What happened last night should've never happened, and he's sure as hell will not let something like that happen to her again. He forbids it.

Slowly, he adjusted himself into a kneeling position in front of Beth, who was still obliviously ranting to herself as she fidgeted with her hands. Reaching out in front of him, he encircled his arms around her shoulders and pulled her body flush to his, tucking her head under his chin.

"I'm sorry Beth. I know there ain't anything I can say or do to make this shitty situation better for you. But I'm here… don't hide from me, Beth. Don't act strong when you feel like you're all torn up inside. Let it out… I'm right here. I ain't going anywhere," he whispered to her, his arms tightening around her small frame.

He felt her body shake, and seconds later, soft sobs racked through her body. Her arms snaked up behind his back and clenched onto his shirt, pressing their bodies closer together. Through her sobs, he made out a few fragments of sentences. Most of them sounded as if she blamed herself, and that she deserved it for letting him die. This wasn't the first time she said that. He heard her blame herself when she had her nightmare right after the group rescued her. He hadn't gotten the chance to ask her about her captor. He supposed the time now is better than any.

"Let who die?" He whispered, awkwardly stroking her back. The jerking motion must've worked in calming her down—her sobs diminished to sniffles and the occasional whimper.

"The priest… the guy who captured me… funeral home…" she sighed against his chest, sending a wave of moist heat through his vest.

He suppressed the urge to shiver and buried the beginnings of inappropriate thoughts into a deep dark corner of his mind. Clearing his throat, he continued his questions. "How did he die?"

"I killed him…"

Daryl pulled back, albeit shocked as he studied her face. "You killed him?" he was far beyond skeptical. He doubted she would purposely kill anyone—it wasn't within her nature to. "How?" he asked, keeping his face devoid of emotion.

"He fell… and… I left him there… in the tunnel," she whispered dejectedly, large tears falling down from her eyes anew. "He said," she hiccupped "… that I would go to Hell for leaving him behind… that I killed him…" Her shoulders visibly sagged and Daryl couldn't decide to whether or not laugh or scold her for her stupidity.

He decided neither, instead he pulled her back into his arms and sighed, relieved. "You know, that don't make you a killer. Might as well say I killed him too."

"What? How… does?"

"'Cus it ain't your fault, honey," he chuckled, albeit dumbfounded at her logic. "I could've gone back there faster when I heard 'em screaming. I could've done and killed the dozens of walkers that were eatin' on him. But I didn't. 'Cus why? Too late. It ain't your fault that he died." He supposed his reasoning was working on her. He felt her shift until she laid her head in the crook of where his shoulder met his neck.

"I 'supose so… But I feel so guilty… That dream… he appeared and said it was my fault…"

Daryl shrugged at her comment, then proceeded to shift their position until he sat on the cold ground and pulled Beth into his lap. For the longest moment, he didn't care what the others were doing. He remained still, holding her. She was like a fallen angel, dejected and thinking the cause of that man's death was her fault.

After a long silence, he heard Beth speak again. "Daryl? Do… do you believe in God?"

"For real?" He debated if he wanted to answer truthfully or not. He felt her shift until she sat upright on his lap, looking into his eyes.

She nodded, watching him with her doe-like eyes, "Yes, answer truthfully."

Daryl sighed, ran a hand through his hair before propping his arms behind him to stabilize him and Beth's weight. "Well, for starters… I don't believe in God." He watched disappointment grow in her eyes. "But," he continued "… when you wouldn't wake up from your hellish nightmare… no matter what the fuck I tried to do… I… I prayed."

"… I prayed 'cus you're all that I got now. I don't know if the others are still alive. And fuck, if they're all dead… you're the closest thing to a family I got. I felt myself change when I thought I lost ya. Ain't got nothin' to protect. Ain't got nothin' to look out for but my own sorry ass. I don't wanna be like what I was before all this shit hit the fan. I don't want to lose you, and I ain't gonna," he whispered and tore his gaze away from her face. He felt his face flush with heat. It sounded almost like a confession… damn it.

He dared himself a peak at her face from the corner of his eyes. He immediately looked away again, and cleared his throat. From what he saw, her face flushed as red as his, she probably took it as a confession too. Well… fuck.

"So… you do believe in God… now?" She too, cleared her throat and avoided his gaze.

"… Yeah… Guess so."

"That makes sense. You're like my guardian angel… always saving me."

Daryl chuckled and shook his head, "If anyone's an angel here, it would be you."

"Angels don't let other people die," she whispered, her mood started to decline again.

He shifted the weight onto one of his arms, freeing his other hand to cup the side of her face, forcing her to look at him. "What you just said proved that you're more the angel than me. You can't help but blame yourself because you see the good in other people that I can't see. That man kidnapped you. He ain't a good man, and yet you still blame yourself for something outta your control. Some people may call it karma but damn, Beth. It ain't your fault. If you ain't gonna believe yourself, at least believe in me."

For seconds, she stared at him with her head tilted to the side. He knew nothing about what she was thinking; partially he believed she might've gone crazy. Then, she flashed him a watery smile, her eyes shining with… something he couldn't put a name to. "I believe you Daryl, and I trust you."

Rarely did he ever want to smile… but around her, around this fallen angel, he couldn't help but feel his soul lightened up enough to smile in return. "Well 'bout damn time," he grinned.

They remained sitting on the floor for a few more uninterrupted minutes before the gravity of their situation were made known to them. The men of the group crept in from behind them, waiting for the perfect moment to strike…

/

**JR-** Sorry it took so long to update folks! I just finished my finals! Doing good so far! This was more of a filler chapter to ease Beth and Daryl's anxiety. Can't say much for the next chapter though.

Oh, and there's a reason why she says she trusts him repeatedly! Stay tuned for the future chapters to find out!

Thanks for reading, please review!


	7. Miracle

**Take Me as I Am**  
Chapter 7_  
[Miracle]_

"Well now folks, it seems like we gots ourselves a dilemma here," she heard the leader of the group, Joe grumble out behind her and Daryl. She saw Daryl's posture tense significantly as casted her a look that spoke of caution.

Beth gripped her knife closer to her body, her knuckles immediately flushing white from the sudden tension. After last night, she vowed she would get well acquainted with hand to hand combat if Daryl will teach her. She couldn't just simply rely on Daryl anymore. Not that she didn't trust him, she did—with every fiber in her body she did. However, she needed to fend for herself in case they were separated again. She was sure Daryl will approve of her logic.

"Oh, you think so?" Daryl's voice echoed loudly within the building. He was planning something, she didn't know what.

"Yeah. You see, young fellar. You just killed my friend there. Now, I ain't gonna say he didn't deserve it… but I made a promise to his daddy. The only to keep my promise alive is if you give me something as compensation," Joe nodded his head and the remaining members of the group encircled around them.

She followed suit when she saw Daryl slowly rose to his feet, gripping his crossbow and steadied himself for a fight. Her eyes than darted back to Joe, who had a very unsatisfied frown on his face.

"Well. One of yous gotta go," Joe stuck out his hand and pointed at her and Daryl with his index and middle finger in the shape of a 'V'.

"Not gonna happen. Both of us go together, you ain't splitting us apart." The moment the men began to take their step towards them, Daryl aimed his crossbow directly at Joe's head. "Now, you gonna move so the both of us can go or what, old man?"

Beth inwardly cringed at Daryl's choice of words. This wasn't the situation to be insulting the party with the upper hand, but heck… then again, Daryl probably didn't care. The only issue presented at this moment was that they were severely outnumbered, and outgunned.

"No… No I got a better idea," a sadistic smirk appeared on Joe's face, and with one slight nod of his head, hell broke loose all over again.

It had happened so quickly, Beth had no idea what was going on. Everything had seemed to blur together within the span of minutes, nothing made sense. Someone had fired a shot, but Beth didn't know who did or what or who the bullet pierced. With adrenaline already pumping through her body as the men were speaking, her body took action before her brain caught up with it.

She had dropped to the floor to avoid bullets shot at her and Daryl by one of the men surrounding them. He had tossed his gun behind him after the third rapid shot and unsheathed his dagger, out of ammo she assumed. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Daryl jump onto his feet and began hand to hand combat with two males.

The name of these men escapes her, what would she say on their graves? What a gruesome, coldhearted thought. Be that as it may, she and Daryl will make it out of this alive—she had no doubt about it… maybe? The man who fired the three shots leaped at her, with his dagger poised for attack. Beth may not be very strong, but what she lacked in strength she gained in speed. Somewhat.

She was able to jump out of the range of attack, but the man recovered his stance and was ready to strike at her again. Her foot collided with a piece of scrap metal with jagged edges, with no time to spare; she lifted the lighter end of the long scrap metal and swung it at the man's legs. It was a slow strike; the man was able to jump away from the swing without much effort. Or so he thought.

Beth almost cheered with victory when the man's pant leg caught onto the jagged edges of the scrap metal. It effectively stopped his attack on her as he tried to focus on maintaining his balance. She swelled with triumph when she saw his over leg trip over the scrap metal, sending him falling against the metal storage shelves causing misfit metal parts clattering onto the concrete floor.

Wasting no time, she ran over to Daryl who was now struggling to fend off Joe and this other man. Retrieving her fallen knife from the floor, she plunged the sharp blade into the back of Joe's left shoulder. She had no time to back away before she felt the back of his hand meet her face with a force so great, she fell onto the floor, her vision blurred into darkness.

A deafen ringing tone echoed in her ears as she struggled on the floor. In the background, she could hear the youngest male of the group shouting something through the commotion. She could hardly make out his frantic words.

" – coming!"

Coming? What was coming? Beth tried to focus more, but it proved to be worthless. Color and the shape of objects in front of her began to fill her vision again, but the blur was still there. Despite that, she lifted her head from the ground and saw the figure of Joe with something in his hands.

Her knife! She saw the bloodied, pointed tip aiming for Daryl's back as he shot another man dead with his crossbow. "No—Daryl!" She prayed he would turn around in time. With her head still swimming, she struggled to stand on her feet. As she failed to stand on her second attempt, she looked up frantically to hear the sickening sound of knife piercing into flesh.

Her heart pounded mercilessly in her chest when she heard his cry of pain. "Daryl!" Mustering all the strength she had left, she flew onto her feet and jumped onto Joe's back gripping his wrist that held onto her knife. She had stopped his second attack on Daryl, but his attention turned to her now that she was straddling his back.

"You stupid little cunt!" He hissed as he tried to pry his wrist out of her claw-like grip.

"Daryl, go!" She shouted in a strained voice. She had hoped she bought him enough time to get up and head for the exit, but he was struggling to get on his feet.

"ARG!" With a strangled cry of frustration, Joe turned his face to where her arm touched his. With his mouth wide open, he sank his teeth deep into the tender flesh of her forearm.

Beth screeched as the tearing pain shot up her spine. Blinded with pain, the hand that was steading herself on Joe's back reached up to his head. Her numb fingers found his left eye, without wasting another second, she sank her fingers into his eye- feeling the warm, sticky substance of blood covering her fingers.

Joe let out a blood curling howl that shook the walls of the building, and launched Beth onto the floor with a mighty toss of his arm. He stumbled onto the floor, clutching his eye in his hands, shouting obscenities.

Beth retrieved her fallen knife before crawling to Daryl on her knees and one arm, while cradling her injured arm close to her chest. "Daryl…" She whispered his name with a hiss of pain. "Daryl… a-are you okay?"

"Motherfucker stabbed me, 'course I ain't okay," he retorted, his face etched with pain. She quickly ripped a part of the sleeve of her shirt and pressed the rag against his bleeding wound. It wasn't gushing with blood, but it was deep enough to cause her concern.

For a second there, Beth thought the worse was over—despite the fact that they both suffered albeit serious injuries, she thought they escaped death. Nothing goes as planned, or even hoped. As Daryl and she caught their breaths for a few seconds, a rumble and the sound of metal giving against weight echoed into the building.

She felt Daryl grow still immediately—honing in on the sounds. She also strained to determine what those sounds were until the youngest male of the group, the acting sentry while the group fought, cursed and jumped down from his post near the window.

"Fuck, they're here! They're here!"

Beth watched with confusion as he and another older, heavier set male tried to get Joe onto his feet. '_What's here?_' she thought to herself. She casted a forlorn look at Daryl's head, who turned his head and returned her gaze with worried and serious eyes.

"It's time to go Beth," he rasped out and gripped his crossbow's handle and brushed aside her hands, the bloodied rag falling onto dirt floor. He sucked in a breath when the strap of his crossbow slide over his wound, but he didn't falter. "Beth, we got to go… now!" His voice sounded almost fearful to her.

"Why? We have to get you fixed up first!" Beth scanned the walls of the building, hoping to find something useful in suturing wounds. That's when she heard it—the reason why Daryl was so hurried to leave this place.

Walkers. Hundreds of them, it sounded like… they were tearing down the chain-link around the back of the property, making their way towards the back door of the building.

She could hear their moans of hunger, their lips smacking from their thirst for live blood—the metal door began to shake and give against the fists of the walking dead.

Adrenaline coursed through her blood again—causing her to leap onto her feet, despite her sore ankle. "We gotta go, we gotta go!" she whispered to Daryl as she slipped one of her arms around the back of his shoulders to help him up. He suppressed his groan of pain and accepted her help to stand. He staggered forward weakly as she took a step. "Come on, Daryl. That's it, another step!" she motivated him to continue with each step despite both of their bodies being in pure agony.

"Oh no! You fuckers better get back here!" Joe shouted, shoving the two males helping him up aside. He staggered onto his feet; a crazed look adorned his face. "If I'm dying here, you fuckers are dying with me!"

_Oh God... No!_

Beth looked over her shoulders to see the two males trying to stop him from killing them all. The crazed man was pushing aside the barricade of shelves and boxes of the back door—where the walkers were prowling on the other side.

"What's the fucker doing?" Daryl stopped briefly to try and look over his shoulders—things had taken a turn for the worse.

The top hinge of the metal door was rusty and old; it stood no chance against the stubborn nature of the walkers as they pushed against the door. Fueled by Joe's shouts of taunting and tearing down the barricade, the walkers broke through the weakened door.

The two males snatched Joe by his shoulders and darted for the other door as the walkers fought to squeeze through the narrow doorway. "Come on, let's get out of here!" they shouted to each other as they shoved Daryl and Beth aside and escaped through the door they first entered through.

"Come on Daryl, we've got to go!" Beth pulled Daryl onto his feet and supported his weight, then taking quick but small steps to the exit. She felt as if she was living the day she was trapped in the tunnel two days ago—except this time, it was Daryl that she was helping. "Hurry!"

The duo made it past the escape door as the walkers started to file into the dimly light building, Daryl quickly turned around and slammed the door shut—but it won't hold the walkers back for long. They hurried their way down the few steps as best as they could with injuries as severe as theirs.

"Which way, Daryl?" Beth panicked as she looked at the railroad tracks.

"Funeral home, that way," he gritted through his clenched jaw and nodded at the direction they came from.

It worried her to go back to the funeral home—it had been overrun with walkers the last she remembered. At this point, they couldn't waste any more time. A step at a time, they made their way onto the tracks and headed towards the way Daryl pointed out.

Behind her, she could hear the metal door bursting open, the sound of the dead growing louder as their numbers multiplied by the dozen. "We've gotta hurry," Beth whispered and quickened her pace. In front of them, she saw Joe and the two males, struggling to escape the herd as well.

Before she could register what the man was doing, he aimed a gun at their direction and pulled the trigger.

Time flew by in slow motion. Her eyes followed the deadly bullet as it grew increasingly large and closer to them, and suddenly as if time sped up again, Daryl cried out and slumped onto the gravel filled tracks.

Blood oozed under him. He'd been hit. Daryl has been shot.

Tears poured out of her eyes, stunned—she was unable to move for the moment. In the background, she heard the two men beside Joe shouting at him as he laughed. "Daryl, Daryl, get up we have to go!" she cried out desperately, her voice cracking with panic. She caught a glance of the walkers on their trail, they were getting closer and closer with every second she let Daryl stay on the ground.

"Come on, Daryl! I ain't leaving you," she pulled him up onto his feet with uncharacteristic strength. Despite his groans of pain, and his faltering steps, Beth pushed on.

The walkers were close, just as if she was back in that dark tunnel; the walkers were only a few steps away from reaching them. Their only saving grace was that most of these walkers following them were old—decomposition had taken its toll on them.

"Beth… I can't. Take my crossbow… ugh… a-and just go," he attempted to shove her in front of him, to sacrifice himself so she can live.

Beth gripped harder onto his body, "NO!" she let out a stubborn cry. "I'm not leaving you Dixon. You hear me? I'm not going to let you die… not if I can save you."

"I'm just slowing you down, dam'it!"

"No! Just shut up and walk!" Beth shouted, pushing even harder and faster. They closed the distance between her and Daryl and the three men. They had been arguing—and now Joe was turning on the two men.

Joe struggled to grab the rifle from the younger male, but failed when the younger male pushed against him and tripped against the metal rails of the tracks. Screaming, Joe plunged into the shallow ditch of grass and gravel, a sickening _crack_ echoed loudly against the moans of the undead.

"Get down here, you fools and pick me up!" she heard him command in his less than fierce voice. She watched the two men falter, unsure of what to do. "Shoot them so the fucking dead can eat their body and come get me!" he bellowed.

Beth's heart nearly stopped in her chest when they turned to aim their rifle and shotgun at them. '_Please no! Please!_' her eyes pleaded with them. Behind her, she could hear the crackles of the gravel under the weight of the walkers. They weren't far. In a split second, as she was deciding if she and Daryl should run off the tracks or not, the guns roared as bullets were propelled out of the barrel and into their direction.

In that fraction of time, the only thing that flashed before her eyes was Daryl's genuine happiness as he cradled Judith in his arms, and wondered how much wider his smile would be if he was holding his own child.

_ Please… Lord… please… Give us a miracle… Please… give us a chance, together._

/

**J.R.-** Whoa, intense chapter :P Beth's getting pretty badass when her adrenaline kicks in!

Thanks for reading folks and please do review!


	8. Rocks

**Take Me as I Am**  
Chapter 8_  
[Rocks]_

The bullets flew past their bodies and into the rotting flesh of the walkers behind them. He mustered a quick thanks to the Almighty for watching their asses. Despite the searing pain from the knife wound on his back and the gunshot wound tearing two holes into his left side, playing the words from Beth, he pushed on.

Moments ago, he had every mind to buy enough time for Beth to escape by sacrificing himself to the walkers. How noble—the younger him a decade ago would have laughed and spat at his face for being stupid and for acting like a knight for a damsel in distress. Hell, he didn't mind death—it didn't scare him. What scared him is what these men would do to her if they ever found her… what Joe would do to her if he weren't there to protect her.

When she told him to basically suck it up, she wasn't going to leave him behind—he was willing to believe that she would do everything to save him just as he had done for her. When he noticed that the two men bought them some time by killing a few close walkers behind him and Beth, he knew they were giving them a way out. When he saw them haul Joe onto his feet and whisked him away into the forest, he knew Joe would track them and kill him and torture Beth.

Death, he could deal with—but the thought of Beth being ravaged by these men… any men against her will made him burn with fury. He promised her he would protect her, and he'd be damned if he was going to give up now. He couldn't—not yet.

"Beth… we gotta get out of sight," he grunted to her as they continued down the railroad tracks—they had gain some momentum and distance between them and the walkers. Whatever ones that still trailed them, they began to trip over the walkers that the bullets had taken down. Some of them fell into the ditches on the sides of the tracks as they tripped, and some fell over on one another—burying them alive—or dead… whichever.

"The forest?" She panted in question, her voice cracking a bit in uncertainty.

"We ain't safe from them yet," he hissed, not out of anger but of excruciating pain—it wasn't time to rest just yet. "We gotta head back to the funeral home… cross through the forest as a shortcut… take short stops and we can get there before sundown."

"You can't travel that far yet. We gotta stop the bleeding somehow Daryl," she huffed as she supported a part of his weight. They had skipped down from the tracks and disappeared into the forest to their left. They continued rushing through the forest in a seemingly straight path until she nudged Daryl into ninety degree turn and continued down the path.

Daryl almost questioned her ability to follow directions until the obvious hit him like a ton of bricks. Clearly, he felt utterly relieved to know she has a head on her shoulders. They were diverting their tracks, in case they were being followed. He wanted to blame his muddled thinking on blood loss, but who would care anyway?

"Daryl… we need to treat your wounds. You've lost too much blood already." They had been running for at least half an hour, and with them diverting their path, they earned enough time to get a brief moment of rest.

"'s fine, I've been putting pressure on it. Keep moving," he took another step without hesitation. Truth be told, he didn't want her to see what kind of damage his body had gone through—new or old.

"But Daryl! You'll bleed to death before we get to the funeral home!" she slowed her steps, but he refused to stop until they made it somewhere safe.

"I ain't stopping, Beth," he knew logically, he needed to be bandaged up but he hated the thought of wasting time and allowing the dead catching up to them.

"You know we can rest at least a minute or two… just give me enough time to wrap you up!"

"No!" he kept moving even after Beth stopped supporting him. He didn't realize just how much Beth was supporting his weight until he was walking on his own. Feeling his energy rapidly draining from his body as he struggled to stay balanced, he walked to a nearby tree and leaned his forearm against it, his forehead resting on his arm.

He heard her soft footsteps approach him from behind him, stopping only a few inches away. He didn't bother to turn around to face her until he heard fabric ripping. "What 'r ya doing?" he tilted his head and observed her from the corner of his eyes.

She kept silent as she tore at the bottom of the shirt he gave her, ripping the bottom half off before making smaller strips of cloth. "It smells like sweat and shit… but I rather you stink than have wounds left open and bleeding," whispered meticulously, focusing her attention on tying three of the four strips together to form a longer piece.

Daryl chuckled at the irony of her words, somewhat amazed that she still had a sense of humor from what just happened—no matter how dry her humor was. Her words were near identical to his when he gave her the shirt to cover her torn undershirt. And then it hit him—she was willing to use whatever she had that he had given her or learned from him to save him. She wasn't the weak, sheltered kitten in the farm anymore. She wasn't whining or complaining how tired she was or how much her ankle hurt. She was doing this to survive.

For both of them to survive—together. Because for all they knew, they only had each other.

"Here," he clenched his jaws as he pulled up his shirts and jacket to expose the gunshot wound. He was still apprehensive about exposing Beth to his past, it didn't matter now. He didn't know when or how he stopped thinking that way, but he needed to get on track just as Beth did.

"Don't look," he heard her command behind him, followed by a soft rustle of fabric and leaves and then tear another of fabric. His head tilted slightly, curious as to what she was doing. Actually—he knew what she was doing—stripping. Well, her shirts at least. Despite the heavy urge to look, he focused on listening in on the surrounding for threats instead.

A rustle of leaves behind him caught his attention, momentarily forgetting what Beth was doing; he turned his head to the source of the sound and then immediately snapped his head back, his eyes gazing at the trees in front of him. If he hadn't lost a bit of blood, he would think his face would be bright red from the way his face heated up. He was glad she didn't notice him catching an eyeful of the milky skin of her upper body.

Seconds later, he heard her rip another piece of fabric. He nearly jumped out of his skin when she pressed the soft cloth against the bleeding wound of his left abdomen, fully clothed with the half torn brown shirt now under her grey sweater.

Her head hovered inches above his wound, examining it closely, as she dabbed it with the rag. "It's not the cleanest, but it doesn't have walker guts all over it," she whispered about the rag made from her undershirt. "The bullet went right through you…" she sounded solemn.

Daryl lowered his head to the side to catch a glimpse of his wound and nodded, "I don't think it hit anything vital, just hurts like a bitch."

"At least you've been putting some pressure on the front of it," she moved her ministrations to the wound where the bullet left his body. He felt her dab at it before covering up the wounds with a rag for each side and wrapping the misfit bandage around his waist and then secured it with a tie.

"Let me check the knife wound on your back," she motioned to remove his jacket.

"No," he shrugged away from her hands and shook his head. "We've gotta get going. Wasted enough time already—come on," he raised his left arm and motioned for Beth to grab it.

With a defeated sigh, she slipped under his arm and together, they headed down the direction to the funeral home.

-0-

"Sh, shh!" Daryl slowed to a stop, his left arm over Beth's shoulders as they stood still; listening to their surroundings. He heard the distinct moans of walkers nearby, not a great many but a few. They may have been part of the herd that invaded the funeral home. They had walked for hours, cutting through the thick brush as a short cut back to the funeral home.

With the day spent and the sun setting and the both of them exhausted beyond belief, he knew they had to find the funeral home fast. Standing at the edge of the forest on the road not too far from where Beth was kidnapped, he juggled their options.

One, lure them away to an opposite direction by some distraction… or two, sneak and kill whatever that got in their way. With their energy spent from the day's rushed travel, they needed enough energy to clear the funeral home. There had to be a few walkers that remained there, or worse—humans. Three, they find another place.

The third option was least favorable—the funeral home was secluded and deep in the forest. It was secure if they were more careful than they had been that night.

"Okay Beth, it's a good fifteen minute run from here to the home… the walkers nearby could be from the ones that attacked the home or another herd. We can sneak and run, kill them all or find somewhere else," he didn't know when his voice started to waver, but sure enough it seems that the state of his body was rapidly declining.

He looked up at her face, their gaze connecting. She had a concern frown on her lips; she too, knew he would not hold up for long.

"I'll cause the distraction, and you can meet me near the home? My ankle can make it, I'm worried…" she down casted her eyes, avoiding his face.

He knew she worried for him, hell—he's worried about her worrying about him. He hooked a finger under her chin and tilted her face so she'll meet his eyes. "I'm wounded—not crippled. If you distract them from this road down the other side of the forest, I can clear out whatever's around the home."

"Then you'll wait for me to clear the home together, right?" her voice held a warning tone, as if telling him not to go in without her.

"'Kay, fine. If you go down this road, and turn left when you see a dirt road, that'll lead you to the funeral home.

He watched as she briefly scanned the leaves covered road, then turn to him and nod. "Okay, don't do anything stupid…" she warned before grabbing a few large rocks on the ground and went to the opposite direction. He spared a minute, staring at her back before turning around and hurried towards the home. Minutes later, he heard the distinct clatter of rocks against metal and knew it was the distraction Beth had set up for them.

By this time, he had made it closer to the funeral home and saw the house's outline in the dying light. Sure enough, there were a few walkers around the property, wandering aimlessly while some started to head to the direction of the tracks.

Inching closer slowly with his crossbow loaded, he took care of a walker closest to him, then another, and another. After collecting his arrows, he surveyed the entrance of the home from the cover of the forest near the home. Grabbing a large, thick stick off of the ground, he tossed it towards the porch stairs of the home, where his metal sound trap laid discarded on the floor. The wooden stick clattered noisily at a wooden support beam of the stairs before falling down on top of a metal can, causing it to shake the fallen trap.

He quickly aimed his crossbow at the opened door, ready to kill whatever comes out of the home. Two walkers limped from the back of the house towards the open road. Daryl silently cursed, he knew for a fact that there were walkers in the home, but they were not surfacing. Looking around the ground again, he began digging at the ground until he found a rock slightly smaller than a lemon.

"This gotta work," he whispered to himself, wiping the sweat off his brow. He had been feeling lightheaded and sweaty for hours now, but he didn't say a word to Beth. If he did, she would've never left him alone. Truth be told, he wanted to clean the house out for her first before he died, that is if he dies. And damn, he was close to almost finishing his task. Chucking the rock at the door of the funeral home, it clattered loudly against the door, causing it to hit the wall behind it with a loud thump, and then nosily clattered onto the wooden floor.

He managed a weak grin when, sure enough, a small stream of walkers emerged from the small home. Four, he counted. Six, including the two wandering on the road. He aimed his crossbow at the burliest looking walker and disposed of it with an arrow to its head. Another at a taller one, the third at a female closest to the open road. Three down, three to go—he can take three. Gripping the handle to his crossbow, he stood onto his feet, slightly swaying with weakness.

He had no interest in dying, but he knew he lost an ungodly amount of blood—so much so he knew there was a chance he wasn't going to live through the night. At least if he cleared the house, he would be able to leave knowing Beth would be relatively safe for a few days after he's gone. Even that was an unsettling thought.

Rounding up the last of his strength, Daryl stalked over to the closest walker with a steady gait and decapitated the head when he was in range. The other two walkers noticed his presence and staggered towards him, hungry for fresh blood. With almost all of his strength spent swinging his heavy crossbow, he laid it on the ground and attacked the next closest walker with his knife with some trouble. It had taken the rest of his strength to kick the walker onto the ground for him to stab its skull.

Now, with one last walker remaining, he couldn't find the strength to remaining on his feet. Staggering, he slumped onto the ground with one knee under him. The pain in his lower left side grew increasingly painful, his breathing growing erratic and shallow. He had no more time to rest when the last remaining walker stumbled towards him.

Daryl pulled himself onto his feet and gripped its neck with his left arm and poised his knife, ready to deliver the final blow to its head. The walker's arms flailed around his head and chest, one of its hands pushed against the wound above his hip. He cringed when waves of sharp pain shot through his body. With a grunt, he pushed the walker back with his waning strength and fell onto floor, clutching his wounded side.

Walkers didn't care if a person needed a break. No, all they want is blood and if they're determined enough, they'll succeed. This particular walker, although the evidence of decay is apparent throughout is rotten body, its desire for flesh and blood fueled its corpse to continue its attack. Soon, the walkers launched itself over Daryl's body, its infectious teeth mere inches away from clamping down onto his shoulder.

Daryl was able to keep it from biting him, but it left him no chance to grab his knife. He was beginning to really regret the decision to clear the home without Beth. Damned be, at least she only had to take care of this one walker when she returns to the funeral home. Shit… wouldn't he be a walker if he died? He couldn't do that to her. He could imagine himself be one hell of a walker to take down when freshly turned. Merle was.

In his musing, Daryl failed to hear the frantic footsteps of someone running towards him until he saw the dark silhouette of a feminine figure hovering above him. The figure kicked the walker aside before swiftly plunging her knife into its skull.

"Beth…" he rasped out between shallow gasps of air. "Thanks."

He allowed her to help him onto his feet, and once again she supported his weight on his side and noticed his crossbow around her shoulders. "You lied to me," he heard her say, her tone tight and upset. She helped him gather his last three arrows before deciding it was best to head inside the home.

"I didn't lie…" he countered as they ascending the stairs carefully. He kicked the fallen rock from the door frame deeper into the hallway, clattering loudly as it slide down the steps to the dressing room for the dead.

They waited with abated breath for more signs of walkers, and then sighed when all was silent.

"Wait, the trap," Daryl leaned against the doorframe of the front entrance, and nodded at Beth. "Can you set it up?"

She did as she was asked without sparing a glance at him. It hurt him, the way she was brushing him off. When she was done, she slipped her arm under his and helped him into the foyer of the funeral home before shutting and bolting the door securely.

"Just set me up in that coffin o'er there," he joked, half-wittedly.

Beth shot him a glare that made him freeze from the inside out, yet she spoke not a word.

Quite frankly, he rather not incur her wrath any further as she lead him up the stairs cautiously. Hell, by some miracle he was still alive and she was safe. Maybe it was time for him to leave her… in case he died and turned into a walker or something.

God, he rather not turn into one of those dead bastards if he could help it.

At the top base of the stairs, they scanned the short hallway quickly. The funeral home had two bedrooms and a bathroom, all doors were open and not a sound was made. Without wasting any more time, Beth led him to the largest room with a full size bed and helped him into it.

"Beth, you gonna keep ignoring me?" He suppressed a hiss of pain when he laid on his knife wound on the bed. He eased himself higher on the bed, letting his head rest on the clean pillow.

"Yes."

"Why?" Daryl watched her go through the draws, searching for something.

"Because," she answered, her tone annoyed.

"Because why?" he pressed on. He felt lighter, a bit happier knowing at least when he died; it'll be on a soft bed. "I had to do it so you didn't have to. Had to give you a safe place to rest before I go."

"Before you go?" not once did she turn and face him.

"Yeah, go as in… you know," he paused and searched her face to read her emotions. She was so easy to read sometimes, but right now, she was as blank as a piece of white paper.

"Don't _you know_ me," she sighed, disappearing around the corner to what he assumed to be the bathroom.

"Die," he whispered after a minute's pause, believing she was out of hearing range. "Before I was gonna die."

She walked in then, with a handful of wound cleaning supplies. There was fury and determination in her eyes as she stomped towards him, then dropping the items she found on the bed without a care. She reached over and cupped his face in the palm of her hands, forcing him to face her. Her fiery blue eyes pierced deep into his soul when he couldn't help but stare back.

"You're not going to die, Daryl Dixon. I sure as hell won't let you."

/

**J.R.-** Daryl was struggling with thoughts of dying… he didn't want to die, but he didn't want to be irrational either. Ohh sweet Beth. She's getting awesome!

Been a little bummed… noticed reviews and number of visitors dropped the last couple of chapters. I hope the story's not that bad…

Anyway, let me know what you think! Thanks for reading, please review!


	9. Fever

**Take Me as I Am**  
Chapter 9_  
[Fever]_

"You're not going to die, Daryl Dixon. I sure as hell won't let you."

Beth felt the heat rise up to her face, flushing her milky skin into a bright pink color. She was livid. Beyond livid. She hated the thought of being useless—well, useless when it comes to combat. And today, she proved to herself that she wasn't, not completely anyway. To even think of Daryl dying because of her own stupidity, she wouldn't be able to live with herself afterwards. If he had died and she found the rest of the group, what would she tell Rick? What would she tell Carol?

She released his face and looked away, hardly keeping her tears at bay. Sniffling, she went to the far edge of the bed to retrieve the bandages, and antiseptics. She was searching through the first aid cabinet in the bathroom when she heard him say that he was going to die. There was a nearly empty bottle of ibuprofen, two rolls of surgical bandages, half bottle of isopropyl alcohol, some sterile saline and some sports tape. They were so lucky that these were in the house. Without them, Beth wouldn't have been so sure that Daryl would live through the night.

After arranging the items on the edge of the bed, she paused momentarily, casting a glance at Daryl from the corners of her eyes. His eyes were open, his breathing sounded shallow and deep and his brow was speckled with beads of sweat.

Beth frowned, concerned. He looked more than pale to her, which was a given since he had lost so much blood. "Daryl," she called out to him.

"Hm…" he hummed in reply, not bothering to look at her.

"I need to clean your wounds, the proper way… okay?" She wasn't really asking for his permission, she was still upset at his death comment. She almost wanted him to tell her no so she can use that as an excuse to blow up in his face. That would be childish though.

"Hm… 'kay," he breathed out, he sounded exhausted and drained.

Beth scooted closer to his head and placed a hand over his forehead, wondering if he had a fever. She gasped and yanked back her hand, stunned. "God Daryl," she whispered with worry. "You're burning up!" She turned to grab the bottle of ibuprofen, unscrewed the lid and poured all of the contents onto her palm. Four. She counted four 200 mg pills of ibuprofen. That was not enough to even last through the night if his fever took a turn for the worse.

Stop that, she scolded herself. Daryl will make it… he will. He won't die… she won't let him.

"Beth?" she heard him rasp, his throat sounding dry.

"Yeah," she shook her head to get rid of the depressing thoughts and beamed him a smile. "Take this, it'll help with the pain and your fever," she pushed one pill through his lips and waited until he swallowed it before putting the other one in. "Let me get you something to drink," Beth got up from the bed and headed towards the door. Shutting it softly behind her, she made her way down the stairs; drawing out her knife she opened her ears to any sudden sounds.

Though she believed that Daryl had drawn out the remaining walkers of the house, she could never be too cautious now. She needed to watch her every move, because if she didn't… if she didn't, Daryl might die in her care. Putting a knife through walker Daryl's head would be something she couldn't do… how could she?

The house was silent, no sounds of walkers, no sounds of life. Glancing at the front door to double check the security, she determined it was safe for her to shield her knife when the door had remained closed since she and Daryl had passed through it not too long ago. She headed straight to the kitchen, grabbing a few jars of food and a bottle of diet cola and the candles from the kitchen table and was about to make her way up the stairs when a growl froze her in her tracks.

Her heart hammered in her chest, a thousand possibilities of what that growl could be ran through her head. Walkers, bears, walkers, humans, walkers? It couldn't be a walker—it would've attacker her by now. Another growl, followed by sounds of the source sniffing her dampened her fear. Slowly, she spun on her heels to find a mess of dirty white fur and a brown eye staring at her from the kitchen floor.

A dog.

A dog? Could this be the very dog that Daryl was talking about that night? The one that he thought was at the door on that night? It didn't growl at her after it had sniffed her—it was just staring at her.

"H...hi there," Beth cooed, taking a side step around the dog. "I don't mean to be rude, but I have a very needy patient up there… I need to get around you… so… don't bite me."

As if he understood her words, the shaggy one-eyed dog let out a soft 'ruff' and scampered out of the kitchen. Beth tilted her head in mild confusion, but decided against wasting any more precious time. She made her way up the stairs, carefully juggling the contents in her arms. At the top base of the stairs, she looked at the door she closed, and there sat the shaggy white dog.

"Curious little puppy aren't you?" Beth gave a soft smile when it tilted his head at her comment, his ears perking at her voice. Stepping past the dog, she entered through the door, setting the items in her arms on the floor besides the head of the bed.

"Drink this, then I'll start cleaning you up," Beth pressed the uncapped bottle of soda to Daryl's lips and lifted his head so he can drink. He only managed a couple of sips before he coughed and shook his head. She sighed, concerned. The last thing she wanted to do is cause Daryl more pain, but knowing the bullet pierced through his body, there was a high chance it needed stitches.

"Where am I going to find needle and thread in this house," she asked no one in particular, burying her face in her hands.

As if on cue, the one-eyed dog 'ruffed' and got up from its position on the floor and scurried into the other room on the second floor. When it noticed Beth not following it, it returned and 'ruffed' softly again.

Beth looked up from her hands, "What is it?" she asked wearily. The dog whined and lolled its tongue to the side and disappeared around the corner. Curious, Beth followed it to the other room and saw it wagging its tail in front of an oak dresser. It jumped up on its hind legs and patted the top right draw with a paw. "Do you want me to look in there?" she asked it, feeling a little silly talking to a dog as if it understood her.

It 'ruffed,' and wagged its tail.

She made her way to the dresser and pulled out the drawer, gasping in shock when she found knitting and needlework supplies. "Oh my gosh," she exclaimed, searching through the organized tray of thread and then the needles on a pin cushion. She stared at the dog in disbelief. Was it possible that this dog lived here with its owner? Crouching down to its level, Beth extended her hand, allowing it to sniff it. Sensing no aggression from it, she gently rubbed his ears. "Thank you," she whispered to it with a genuine smile.

"Don't you have a name?" She groped around its neck for a collar, and found it covered by its mess of hair. Finding the metal tag dangling in front of his neck, she squinted her eyes to read it. "Male, Dooley," she said. The dog barked, lolled his tongue at the side of his mouth and wagged his tail.

"Ah, so you're Dooley… Well thank you Dooley, you are a life saver," she gave him a final rub behind his ear and returned her attention back to the draw, retrieving the necessary items for some stitches. She made her way to the bathroom to fill two small basins with water and grabbed a few washcloths hanging on hooks before returning to Daryl.

Beth bit back the urge to blush when she started to peel off the layers of his clothing, after all in this situation, she shouldn't be bashful. She muttered soft apologies when Daryl grunted in pain as she removed the last of his shirt, revealing his bare chest and bandaged waist.

By now, the sun had set almost completely and it was near impossible to see. She called Dooley from the hallway and shut the door behind him and secured it shut by locking it and putting a chair's back at the base of the doorknob. Should walkers get in, if they were careful not to make a sound… they would not find them up on the second floor. It was humans she was worried about. At least with it a bit secured, she had time to help Daryl escape through the window should humans find the funeral home.

Satisfied with the security of the door, she went about setting up two candles, one on a metal tray on the floor, another on the nightstand by the bed. She pulled it closer to her from the wall, careful not to make too much noise. She set up most of the supplies on a large towel on the floor besides the nightstand and she began preparing the instruments.

She wished she memorized every word her daddy told her about stitching up wounds had she known that the world was going to hell and she had to save a man. All of this was unnerving. Though she didn't have the exact same equipment as her dad did back at the farm or at the prison, she was sure she could make do. She had watched him do it time and time again when the animals at the farm got injured. She just needed to be confident.

She washed her hands with in one basin, and then poured alcohol on her hands. After her hands dried, she unwounded about a foot of black thread and poured alcohol all over that and set it aside. Next, she bent the needle to a wide 'U' shape using the same sanitizing procedure, and proceeded to put the needle over the candle flame to burn off the excess alcohol. She kneeled by the side of the bed, and grabbed the scissor and began cutting away at the bloodied, makeshift bandage.

She peeled the bandage aside, and pulled the bloody rag off of his body. Blood wasn't oozing out, but it was at a light trickle, which could be a good sign, or a bad one. She didn't know which. Taking the candle in one hand, she pulled the source of light closer to the wound to examine it. She was no doctor, she couldn't even pretend to be—but she's had experience with suturing wounds. She was beyond relieved to find no chunks of flesh, or organs, protruding from the wound.

"You're one lucky son of a gun," she muttered to the semi-unconscious Daryl. Quickly, with the candlelight by her, she cleaned the wound with some saline and fresh cut up strips of the white bandage as best as she was able to. After threading the needle with great skill, she began the meticulous task of sewing up the gaping wound.

"Tie, cut. Tie, cut," she kept repeating with every stitch as her dad would. Minutes later, the gaping hole turned into a one inch long, sutured wound. Beth quickly pressed a few fresh square cut bandages over stitches and taped it down with strips of sports tape.

She was worried that Daryl hadn't reacted to the needle piercing his flesh—was he completely unconscious? After rinsing her hand, she stood onto her feet and pressed a hand against his cheek. "Daryl?" she called to him, but he didn't answer. His skin felt slightly cooler to the touch, and he wasn't sweating as bad as before—she could only hope that it meant his fever was dying down.

"Daryl, I need to turn you around," she whispered to him, knowing he will not answer her. She sighed, knowing there was a chance she could ruin her work on his wound on the front side of his body if she wasn't careful in turning him around. Somehow though, she managed to drag him up by the sheets and roll him onto his stomach, exposing his back.

Beth stepped back with a shock gasp, almost knocking a basin of water over. Her bottom lip trembled at the sight of his back. Scars… old, large scars marred his light skin. Her heart ached, knowing what had caused those scars. He had mentioned he had an abusive father… she never knew it was to this awful extent.

All her life, Beth was loved unconditionally by her parents. Anything she wanted, she got. She would be nothing without her father's love. To think that Daryl hadn't had any fatherly love in his life… she mourned for him. Kneeling besides him, Beth brushed her fingers along the longest scar across his back, the one that crossed one of his gargoyle tattoos. Sniffling, she bent her head and pressed her lips against the scar in a feather-light kiss, a tear splattering onto his skin.

_I'm sorry_, she wanted to say, but she was unable to voice her words.

Wiping away her tears, she shook her head and demanded herself to focus on what was the most important thing to do now—stitching up his last two wounds.

Sanitizing some of the equipment one last time, she focused all her attention and thoughts on suturing the exit wound from the bullet. The edges were jagged and bleed more freely, but she couldn't leave it open and bleeding. At least with it sutured, Daryl stood a chance.

The final length of the exit wound, she guessed it to be nearly two inches long after the stitches secured it shut. She bandaged the stitched wound carefully and grabbed the candle in her hand to inspect the stab wound. Inspecting it this time around, it wasn't as bad as she thought it was when it had happened in the abandoned junk lot. Still, better safe than sorry.

She had to work fast though, the candles were rapidly losing length and she had to get him bandaged up before she was immersed in complete darkness.

-0-

Finally, Beth sank back onto her bottom—exhausted. She had stitched up, cleaned and bandaged all three wounds and turned him onto his back. With minutes to spare, Beth was able to wash her hands quickly and settled herself at the edge of the bed on the floor, cuddled with a blanket and the jar of pigs feet, peanut butter and soda.

Dooley made his way over to her, staring at her expectedly.

Beth couldn't help but let out a soft laugh and treated him to two chunks of the pigs feet. "You earned it, Dooley… I think he'll be okay because of you," she whispered, petting the fur of his head as he chewed on the food.

Drawing her hand back, she pressed her forehead against the footboard of the bed, relishing the cool wood against her skin. It had certainly been an eventful week… it certainly opened her eyes to the world around her. She tucked her arms into each other in front of her chest and shivered—not from the cold.

In the past four days, she had managed to be kidnapped, almost eaten by walkers in a tunnel, almost choked to death in her dreams, almost raped by Randy, almost dying by walkers again, and now she was nursing an injured Daryl. She wanted to say her life sucks—but that would be selfish. She was alive… and that was it. She should be glad to be alive, and she is but she was so very tired of the fighting. Tired of killing… tired of running.

Her thoughts turned to Daryl earlier this week when they were eating downstairs in the kitchen table. The way he suggested that they could stay here and make a life for them—was he being honest? Thinking back to that night, the way his eyes made her heart flutter and her stomach quiver… the way he was trying to tell her something with his eyes. His eyes essentially told her that _she_ was the reason why he started to believe there were still good people left.

Does he still believe in that now? After all that they've gone through in the past four days… she was struggling to believe it herself. Well… no. Why was she so biased? Didn't those two men from Joe's group save her and Daryl? If it weren't for them taking down some of the walkers on the tracks… they wouldn't have made it at all.

Dooley broke her out of her thoughts when he inched closer to her, full from dinner, and curled up next to her feet and laid his head on his paws. Beth smiled and scratched his ears, glad that she had a conscious companion with her. She closed her eyes and sighed—she really didn't want to sleep.

Even when Daryl convinced her that Father Stokes' death was not her fault, a part of her heart felt guilty over his death. In sleep, she might see his haunting face again and that was the last thing she wanted after the exhausting day. Maybe if she thought of something else… her dreams will be sweet?

Making herself comfortable on the floor, Beth began recalling happy moments at the farm with her family before the turn. The way she and Maggie bantered, the times the entire family shared on the porch, gazing at the stars. The way her father always told her that he loved her dearly.

Slowly, the tension in Beth's shoulder eased and she fell into a light, dreamless slumber.

-0-

Beth awoke to Dooley whimpering by the bed where Daryl laid. She froze when she heard guttural moans emitting from above the bed.

Was… was he dead?

She swallowed nervously, her hand reached for the knife strapped at her hips. She didn't want to kill him… even if he had turned. Was he really dead? Her bottom lip trembled—not wanting to find out the truth.

But… she had to. Daryl would never tell her not to kill him if he turned. Daryl would always do what's best for the safety of the group… him turning… he would take care of himself before he turned.

She steadied her breathing and pushed the blanket past her shoulders, letting it fall around her on the wooden floor. Slowly, she inched into a crouching position, a hand rested against the wooden footboard of the bed. Then cautiously, she raised her head to peer above the blankets, gripping the handle of her knife tightly in her hands.

On the bed, she saw his head toss side to side. He looked pale with sweat dotting all over his forehead. Sweat.

Beth released the breath she didn't know she was holding and sheathed her knife. Walkers don't sweat. Rising fully on her feet, she sat on the edge of the bed and placed her hand on Daryl's forehead. He has a fever again.

"Daryl… Daryl?" she gentle tapped at his cheek, hoping to get his attention. Daryl's eyes remained shut. She quickly reached over the nightstand and poured out the remaining two ibuprofen pills, but mulled over how to give it to him. The last thing she wanted to do is shove pills up his butt—as sometimes as required for infants or those who can't swallow. The next best thing was to crush the pills up into a powder and pour it in his mouth.

So she wrapped the two pills in a piece of paper and used the butt of her knife to smash them into powder like form. Carefully, she poured the contents into his mouth followed by a capful of pop. She stroked his throat gently, hoping the action will make him swallow. Thankfully, he did.

Beth sighed, feeling a little defeated. A sick man needed more medication and proper nourishment… like soup and water—not diet soda, pigs feet and peanut butter. She tucked a hand under her chin, her fingers pinching her bottom lip.

No matter what she thought of, she always came to one conclusion… she needed to go on a run—alone.

The very thought sent a shiver of fear up her spine. Was she ready for it? She worried her lip with her teeth, her arms tucked into one another in front of her chest. She turned her head to look at Daryl's pale, sweat drenched face.

She had no idea how high his fever was, or how long it would last. She knew though, that the body organs begin shutting down when the fever reaches 104 degrees Fahrenheit. He needed more fever reducers and pain relievers… or else. She couldn't risk letting Daryl die— last evening she looked at him, straight in the eye and told him she wasn't going to allow it.

She shouldn't back down on her word. In this world, a person's word is all they have left.

Nodding to herself, she began building her courage. Daryl can't protect her forever, and God forbid… if he dies, she needed to learn how to go on runs alone anyway.

_Okay, Bethany Greene. You can do this!_

Dooley 'ruffed' by the desk and wagged his tail, drawing Beth's attention.

Beth walked over to the neatly organized desk and began rummaging through the drawers. In the first drawer, she found a well-used, but preserved map with scribbles of writing all over it. She gasped when she found the red circle around a particular area, labeled 'Funeral Home.'

This had to be the map that the owner of the home used to go on his runs.

Spreading the map carefully over the desk, she scanned the surrounding area. She sent a small prayer to Heaven, thanking the Lord for Dooley leading her to this map. Streets circled in blue were labeled with the word 'pharmacy' and in green 'food' and purple 'hunting.' Whoever this was, he or she had scouted very, very far and wide. The span of the circles went well over a forty mile radius.

The map was too precious to bring out on the run. Doing her best, she found a plain white piece of paper in one of the drawers and sketched out the four nearest pharmacies and food places on the map. She doubled, and then tripled check to make sure they were within a ten mile radius because without a car… she had to go fast and leave fast.

Daryl may scold her and call her careless later for deciding to set out on her own—that's what she was counting on. If she could just hear his voice one more time… even if it's out of anger, she would be more than happy. Quickly, she scribbled a note on a piece of paper and left it on the desk for Daryl in case he wakes up and looks for her.

She tucked the map into her back pocket of her jeans and headed to the door. Cautiously, she put the chair aside and listened through the door for any sounds of activity. Satisfied at the silence, she opened the door a crack, and peered out into the hallway. All was how she left it last night. She entered the hallway, a hand on her knife, just in case with Dooley at her heels. She casted Daryl one last glance before shutting the door behind her.

With Dooley following her, Beth felt safer. The duo made their way downstairs, and out the front door after surveying the surroundings and demining it fit. The moment Dooley was out the door, he raced into the woods, leaving Beth to secure the door shut behind her.

"Dooley!" she hissed, but the one-eyed dog was long gone. Carefully, she maneuvered through the noise trap without triggering it and scanned her surroundings once more.

A sudden rustle from her right side caught her attention; she whipped around to face the intruder, her hand on her knife. Then out comes Dooley, with a familiar black backpack strap in his mouth. Beth let out a disbelieving laugh before she bent down to take her old backpack from Dooley.

"You're just full of surprises aren't you?" She rubbed his ears and searched through the backpack. A bottle of water, a jar of peanut butter and the money Daryl found. The latter was no use, but the bottle of water, she needed. "Alright Dooley, I guess you're coming with me?" she asked as she strapped the backpack on.

Dooley wagged his tail and looked at her expectantly.

"Okay then… let's go."

/

**J.R.** – Longgggg chapter. Beth is starting to build herself up…. even though she is naïve. What will happen to her on this run? Will she make it?! Will Dooley make it?! Will Daryl make it?! Stay tuned!

Thanks for reading, please review!

(By the way, I edited some minor details in chapter 1. No need to re-read it or anything, nothing major.  
I did change the age of Daryl to a bit younger. 33 years. He really doesn't look 40 to me... soo... yeah.)


	10. Small Town

**Take Me as I Am**  
Chapter 10_  
[Small Town]_

It had been five long, grueling hours since she left Daryl alone in the funeral home. Her confidence in her abilities were solid—at first. Then she began to run into one walker after another. If she kept count, the number of walkers she saw probably totaled over thirty—killed ten. Dooley trotted beside her the entire time, alerting her to incoming walkers with soft growls before the undead could spot them.

In all honesty, she would be dead without Dooley.

At the moment though, she was safe—exhausted, but safe. She wasn't going to turn back despite feeling a little defeated. If she turned back now, Daryl may die… and she wasn't going to let it happen.

Beth took a small slip of water from her plastic container and poured some in her cupped palm for Dooley. He lapped up the contents before moving to sit by her legs, surveying the surroundings around them. As he looked on, Beth pulled the sketched map from her back pocket and examined it. They had just past a street sign which looked familiar to her, she just had to make sure they were going in the right direction. Sure enough, they were and they would reach a pharmacy within the next half hour if they hurried. Taking one last sip of water, she stored it back in her backpack and started to head towards the pharmacy.

The sun had reached its peak in the sky during her first break; Beth looked up to judge the time and guessed it to be roughly two to four in the afternoon. She hadn't expected the run to get there take so long, but because of the walkers, she had to deviate from the plan several times.

It was a good thing that Daryl had taught her to track in those first three weeks they were alone after the fall of the prison. She was not an expert like Daryl, but she absorbed everything he taught her—and maybe, just maybe, this run won't kill her and she can get back to Daryl with the much needed medications.

During the time of being alone with her senses tuned to the unnatural sounds of the undead, she noticed that the bodies of the undead were… well, decaying for a lack of a better word. Comparing most of the state of the walkers now to back when her family and the group were at her family's farmhouse, the walkers now seemed scrawnier—clumsier. Certainly the laws of nature applied to every being on earth, dead or alive.

Eventually… hopefully, if no new survivors die, turn and turn others into walkers, just maybe the world can go back to normal.

_Not very likely_, Beth scrunched her nose at the thought. Even at the prison when the flu stole lives from the group, they turned even if they weren't bitten. They were all infected somehow. As breathing humans, their bodies had the capabilities to fight off whatever virus or pathogen that causes reanimation… but when dead, the thing takes over.

Which was more reason why she couldn't give up on this run. If by some miracle Daryl woke up and his fever was gone, there was a chance of his wounds getting infected and would have to fight both infection and fever if it ever came to that. There was a slim chance that there would be some medical supplies left in the pharmacy. Even if the chance is slim, she had to check. For his sake… and for her own.

She wouldn't be able to handle his death. The reason why she was still standing after she saw her father being decapitated was because of Daryl. He pushed her, kept her going, and kept her moving. He never gave up on her, and she wouldn't give up on him. It wouldn't be fair.

A soft whimper from Dooley made her stop. They were only a few steps from walking out of the tree line of the forest and into a grassy clearing. The clearing was dominated with overgrown shrubs and grass past her knee, not too far from she and Dooley stood were several small buildings—the edge of the small town.

"We made it Dooley," she breathed out, relieved. She paused for a moment to survey the main road and the fields around the buildings. There were a few walkers heading deeper into town, according to the map—that is where she needed to go. The pharmacy was supposedly near a gas station. Glancing at the skyline above the roofs of the buildings, she saw a rusty red and white Conoco sign roughly three buildings into the town.

It wasn't unusual judging from how secluded the funeral home was. Small towns often just had one grocery store, a gas station or two and a few other essential buildings. Smaller towns meant less walkers. Still, Beth kept in her mind that she shouldn't be careless. After all, walkers don't just stay in one place.

"Let's go Dooley," she petted his head briefly before bending low on her knees and pushed through the tall grass. She made a quick dash towards the closest building, and paused there to catch her breath. Dooley followed silently on her heels, somehow aware that he needed to be silent.

Beth pressed her back against the backside of the building for a brief minute before inching closer to the corner of the building, the side deeper into the town. She peaked her head around her corner slowly, and spotted two abandoned cars in the main road, one with black car with the trunk popped open and the other red truck looked rusted and burnt. There was garbage littered on the road, but no signs of walkers noticing her—yet.

The next building was roughly four lengths of a standard car in distance away. Across the road were two more buildings. If she could get past this next building, she might be able to spot the pharmacy. Taking in several deep breaths of air, she prepped herself for another dash. Glancing over her shoulders and around the corner of the building one last time, she darted across the small clearing and avoided junk piles when the coast was clear.

When she reached the building, she could hear the moans of the walkers on the main road she spotted just moments ago. Her heart began to hammer in her chest; yes they were few in numbers however… she was alone. She may be able to tackle one or maybe even two at a time, but could she handle four?

They haven't spotted her yet, so doing her utmost best to be quiet, she inched over to the edge of the small building. The four walkers were just roaming around in front of this building. Across from the main road was the Conoco gas station. From where she stood, the gas station looked to be relatively quiet. She had to squint her eyes to find any sign of a pharmacy but to no avail. She tried to take a closer look by taking a step towards the edge of the building—big mistake.

Her boot kicked an empty aluminum can that flew a couple of feet towards the other end of the building, colliding into a chain link fence. The sound of metal rattling attracted the attention of the two closest walkers, now they were stalking towards her, their jaws snapping in anticipation.

Beth panicked, frozen in her spot behind the building. She was not sure what to do, her mind raced through a million thoughts per second trying to make sense of the situation. Finally, Dooley began barking at the walkers only a few feet away, snapping her out of her stupor.

She pulled back towards the middle side of the building, shielding her and Dooley from other potential walkers in the area. "Watch that end Dooley," she ordered her companion to guard the other end, hoping he understood her. Obediently, the one eyed dog trotted to the other end and peaked out of the side of the building; his ears peaked up atop his head.

'_Thank goodness_,' she thought and left that end to Dooley's care. The chain-link fence blocked a way of exit as it was parallel to the two buildings she passed, but there were scrap material leaning against it. Of them was a long coil of grass covered rope. Wasting no time, as the walkers were closing into on her, she yanked the rope from its resting place and wrapped one end of it around a metal pole just at the edge of building, and secured it there. Taking the other end, she made a makeshift trip 'wire' by tying the other end around the chain-link fence multiple times.

Just as her time was beginning to run out, she made the final tie around the metal pole, pulled out her knife and poised herself for a fight. The first walker that waddled in was a short male, its flesh so terribly decayed, Beth couldn't tell if he died as a young male or as a short, older man. Her small trip wire came up around his hips, holding him back. The chain-link rattled from the tension, pushing Beth to jump into action.

She darted close to the short walker, his head came up to her chin and plunged her knife deep into his skull. Almost instantaneously the walker slumped towards her; she yanked her knife from its contaminated flesh and shoved it backwards, letting it fall onto its back listlessly. She lifted her knife to inspect it—it wasn't damaged but it wouldn't hurt to sharpen the blade a little more. Her trembling hands alerted her to her state of nervousness.

It was her first time going on a run—it could almost be called a suicide run… but she had to try. She just had to. She didn't have to prove herself for anyone but her own self. She needed this—confidence. Because the lack of it will kill her eventually.

The second walker that streamed into the back of the building was a female, also at a state of major decay. It tripped over the fallen body of the first walker, allowing Beth to drive her knife into the back of its skull, ending its reanimated life immediately. Thinking that the female walker was the last one, she stepped over the body and peaked around the corner of the building.

Decaying hands flew at her faster than she could react, sending her falling backwards atop the two corpses she dispatched earlier. Beth strained to keep its biting jaws from latching onto her neck as it clawed at her shoulders, then gripping at her hair. She heard Dooley's growls and barking behind her, then seconds later, felt the walker above her being jerked. From the corner of her eyes, she saw that Dooley had latched onto its pant leg, tugging at it in efforts to help her.

The walker paid no attention to Dooley as it continued snapping its jaws above her. Beth grunted loudly and shoved the walker to the side of her, then moved on top of it, pinning its neck down with one hand as her other one searched for her fallen knife. "Knife, Dooley! Knife," she cried, hoping Dooley would help her find it.

To her dismay, Dooley kept tugging at the walker's pant leg. Beth couldn't find her knife, nor could she risk anymore time and strength pinning the walker down under her. She scanned the ground and the base of the fence to find anything that could kill the walker. Finding a potato sized rock an arm's reach from her, she snatched it tightly in her hand before pummeling the walker's head into a mess of rotten flesh and bone.

Beth kneeled there, above the walker, gasping for breath. She turned her head to scan the situation behind her to make sure the coast was clear. Then she pushed herself off of the dispatched walker and fell onto her bottom, exhausted. As she was catching her breath, Dooley walked up against her and pressed his muzzle against her left arm.

"Hi, Dooley," she whispered tiredly.

Still trying to catch her breath and calm her racing heart, Beth inched over to where she secured the rope against the metal pole and untied it. Slowly and quietly, she coiled the long rope as tightly and compactly as possible and proceeded to stuff it in her backpack. The rope will certainly serve its use later. Finding her knife was the hard part so far. It had been wedged under the second walker's arm on the ground. She wasn't sure how it got there, but she thanked the almighty for finding it. There was no way she could travel without a weapon.

After dusting herself off, she retrieved her knife and scanned the road once more. Looking closely this time, she spotted a blue and white sign 'Kendall's Pharmacy,' except that the letters 'm, c and y' had fallen off. In order to reach the pharmacy, she would have to cross the main road at the intersection. From where she was at, it looked as if the gas station and the pharmacy on the corner was the center of the small town.

Beth didn't head out immediately. Instead, she threw the rock that she had used to dispatch the third walker towards the opposite direction of where she needed to go. It clattered in low pitched thuds against the concrete paved roads. She hoped it would draw the attention of whatever walkers remained. After listening intently for sounds of the undead, she slowly crossed the intersection with relative ease when she deemed it safe to cross.

It unnerved her to find that there were relatively little walkers in this town. Given, it was a small town in a secluded area… some buildings looked like it had been ransacked a little; even then, shouldn't there be more walkers? Not that she was complaining or anything, it just made her a little anxious since for over a year, they ran into herd after herds of walkers with no breaks in between.

With a shake of her head to clear her thoughts, she focused her attention on bee lining from the gas station to the back of the pharmacy, out of sight from the main road. This particular building had a large glass window, intact still, with a front entrance and a metal door in the back. When she crossed the road, she didn't notice any signs of activity through the dusty window, but she couldn't be too sure. Quietly, she tried the doorknob of the back door.

It clicked when she turned it—it was unlocked. There was a chance that the pharmacy or any other shops here in this small town would be empty since the owner of the funeral home had this location circled. However, it also meant that the building could be empty from the runs that the only may have made. The metal door groaned as she opened it, she prayed there were no walkers inside.

Dooley slipped in before she could set her foot in, she bit her tongue from the urge to call him back. She paused, listening for any sounds of distress from Dooley or the moans of the walkers. All was silent, so she slipped in, easing the door closed behind her.

The two high walled windows streamed enough light for her navigate around the back. This seemed to be a mini-kitchen slash break room for the employees from the way things looked—lockers on one side, a small four seat dining table and chairs, counters, cabinets, a microwave and a sink. There were two doors, both closed.

Beth dived into the task of searching through the cabinets and lockers for something of use. As Dooley stood guard at one of the doors, she rummaged through every bag and cupboard space she came across. A large blue and white duffel bag caught her attention from one of the lockers. She pulled it out and set it on the table, before identifying the contents within it. An opened package of feminine pads, a travel size bottle of Tylenol, a navy blue hoodie and a watch—all of which are useful and needed. The Tylenol would help with Daryl's fever, but she needed more than the eight count the tiny tube held. Stuffing everything back into the duffel bag, she zipped it up and looped her arms through the handles.

She made her way to the door Dooley stood in front of; a piece of paper was taped on there.

"Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be men of courage; be strong. 1 Corinthians 16:13," Beth smiled at the verse. The world had gone to Hell… but there was still good people out there. She had a feeling whoever put this paper on the door still kept their faith in God… as would she. She silently thanked the writer of the note and slipped through the door.

The large shop window and the glass door let through ample amounts of light throughout the shop. She quickly made a note though, that the sunlight was tinged yellow and orange—signaling that the sun will be setting relatively soon. Just how much time did she waste?

Still, she carefully maneuvered from the door and scanned through the three short aisles of the store and the unlocked pharmacy counter. The place had been ransacked, but there was still a lot left. This place was a gold mine—canned food, bottles of pills and other various items littered the floors. She made a mental note to bring Daryl to this place once he was well enough. She stepped past some discarded items on the floor and entered through the door to the pharmacy counter, where the prescription meds laid.

She didn't know what she was looking for, to be honest. The only thing that came to mind was penicillin as an antibiotic. She looked, and looked but found nothing that resembled it. In fact, she knew nothing of these medications and opted to forgo these and look for over the counter pain killers. She slipped back into the main area of the store, and searched the aisles.

Beth stuffed a few things she came across into the blue duffel bag in her arms. A few bottles of water, few cans of Campbell's soup, a discarded flashlight, a digital watch, a bag of jerky and finally, the pain killers. There were only a few bottles left, all of which were scattered onto the floor. Quickly picking through the mess, she put a large five hundred count ibuprofen bottle and a three hundred count generic Tylenol bottle into the bag. She was on her way to look for more items, but Dooley nudged her knee and whined.

That was not a good sign from Dooley. It was as if he was telling her to hurry up. The sunlight was quickly fading away, and in the distance from beyond the walls of pharmacy, she heard the undead closing in. She fastened the duffel bag securely to the straps of her backpack and maneuvered her way to the front of the store. She scanned road on one end to find it clear, then she turned her head.

Things were just too good to be true. She grew lightheaded at the sight before her. A herd. It looked as if there were a hundred of them heading down the road, bumping into obstacles and sides of the buildings. "Come on, Dooley! We have to go, now!"

Beth dashed towards the back of the store, and into the break room. There was a thought in the back of her mind that she could bunker down here… but with the front of the store made of glass—it was not a great idea. Neither is facing a herd of walkers, but she couldn't stay here. She wouldn't stand a chance here.

She slipped out of the backdoor with Dooley hot on her heels. The herd was slow moving, so hopefully she could beat them with speed. "Shhh, Dooley," she shushed him when he started to growl in the direction of the herd. She needed a distraction. Looking at the objects available around her, she conveniently found two empty beer bottles laying a little ways from the edge of the building.

There was no way she was going to expose herself to the herd of walkers this way. They would see her before she could grab those bottles. She would have to go around them.

She rounded the corner of the building and dashed to the back of the next one. She followed the line of the buildings, thinking if she kept this up she would be out of the herd's sight.

Oh how terribly wrong she was. She turned the corner of a building, only to find that the herd had split up—dozens of them heading towards her. They must've spotted her somehow and they were on their way to tear her from limb to limb.

Beth panicked, unsure of what to do next. She was deeper into the small town, running further and further away from where she came from. Dooley must've sensed her fear—he dashed out from behind her and bolted straight through the smaller herd heading their way.

"Dooley!" she cried out after him, he didn't listen. His barks and growls echoed through the once deserted road, she couldn't help but cry out in uncertainty. "Dooley!" she called for him again, praying he would be safe. She knew he had given her a chance to escape; she wasn't going to let it go in vain.

She bee lined to the gas station, and then darted proceeded to run across the street. A part of her thought she was going to make it out alive—that Dooley's sacrifice was not for nothing. She had faith and confidence, but having those things didn't prepare her to trip on a jagged raised crack in the concrete road, causing her to sprain her ankle when she landed on her right foot at a sharp angle.

Beth crashed down onto the concrete with a cry that bounced off the walls of the buildings. The other half of the herd that had not followed Dooley now had their eyes on her. She cradled her aching ankle, crying out in pain, large tears slipped from her eyes. She couldn't stay on the ground… no… the walkers were closing in. She had to go. She bit her lip and fought the urge to scream and curl up in a ball and just wait for them to devour her when she tried to stand up. The sharp, stabbing pain shot up her right leg, she felt nearly crippled.

She spotted the car with the opened trunk around the corner nearby, and then proceeded to crawl towards it on her knees. She was in no shape to out run a herd of walkers… she had to find some kind of shelter. That trunk may be her only saving grace. She reached trunk of the car relatively fast, though her knees were now bruised and bleeding, it didn't compare to the pain of her ankle.

With little time to spare, as the sunset began to cast an eerie orange glow in the sky, Beth hauled herself up into the trunk and pulled out the coil of rope from the backpack. She had to do what she and Daryl did not too long ago. As the walkers began to turn the corner at the intersection, Beth did her best to fit herself in the trunk of the car and pulled the door down. She secured the trunk hatch to the car with the rope as Daryl did with his bandana, and pulled out her knife.

Beth didn't dare to make a sound, she didn't dare to breath. She knew the first few walkers had seen her get in the car, she prayed by the time they reached the car, something else would distract them. She didn't want to die today… no… not yet.

She couldn't, she didn't even get to say goodbye… Daryl. She had told him that she hated to say goodbye, but Daryl… if she had to die, she would at least tell him…

"Until we meet again…" she whispered, clenching her eyes shut when the bodies of the walkers began bumping and scratching against the frame of the car.

/

**J.R.-** Long chapter, Beth centered again. The next one will be half and half. I applaud Beth for having the guts to brave a run alone… but poor Dooley… he sacrificed himself for Beth. I know it's a bit cut and dry, but I feel this is an important growing up experience for her. You know, aside from losing her entire family and all… she needed to experience these things on her own.

I am a review junkie, I admit it :P It makes me feel awesome to read reviews. So pleaseeeeeee review!

Thanks for reading, stay tuned for next chapter! Please review! And a great big thanks and hugs for everyone who leaves a review, they are so wonderful and it keeps me writing!


	11. Reunited

**Hang on to your booties; we're in for a bumpy ride.  
The story will take on a quicker pace from here on out.  
Let the fluffy times begin!**

**Take Me as I Am**  
Chapter 11_  
[Reunited]_

Beth woke up with a startled gasp; sweat drenched her entire body and clothes. Her chest heaved as she tried to steady her shaky breaths. She had the same nightmare again… this time Randy was in it. She dreamt of his menacing, maniac face as he tried to strip her of her clothes. She felt his grimy fingers all over body, gripping at whatever he wanted.

Suddenly, the trunk of the car she found shelter in became too small for her liking. Her breathing increased rapidly instead of slowing down, as if her body couldn't get enough air. Fumbling with the rope tie, Beth yanked and pulled at the rope until the hatch popped up once it was released from its binds. She gasped deeply, letting the fresh air invade her lungs she slowly took in her surroundings.

She had almost lost hope when the walkers began pushing against the car last evening. She couldn't remember how long she had waited for them to pass on because eventually, she fell asleep clutching her knife to her chest. Now, as she surveyed the ghost town around her, not a soul as found—dead or alive. She couldn't hear the moans of walkers or Dooley's barks and growls.

Only the sound of the trees rustling in the wind and the birds chirping their songs filled her ears. If the world hadn't gone to hell, she would've enjoyed this moment… with Dooley, if he were here with her right now. She owed him for saving her, but she didn't know where he could be. Maybe, maybe she should go look for him.

Daryl.

_Oh God, Daryl!_ She straightened up immediately at the thought of Daryl. She had been gone for over a day; the sun was already high up in the air. Chances are, Dooley probably outran the walkers—he had more smarts and survival instincts than some humans she knew. Right now, she needed to get the fever reducers back to Daryl, if he was still alive.

"No, he is alive!" she scolded herself for her negative thoughts.

There was only one dilemma though—her ankles. Her left ankle, the one that was injured by the trap, had a dull ache to it—she could manage as she did before. However, her right ankle is a different story. It throbbed when she didn't move it, which was manageable, but when she tried to put pressure on it, the sharp pain sent her head reeling.

Okay, not good. But… there is a solution. Sort of.

Beth rummaged through the blue duffel bag and pulled out the generic Tylenol bottle. She had taken these when her body ached from being thrown off her horse. It had worked well then, and certainly it could help her now. She knew though, that it wouldn't take all of the pain away—she will take whatever relief she can get at this point. She made it a quick task of swallowing two pills down with a gulp of water from her already opened bottle.

After storing all the contents back into the duffel bag and securing it, she strapped the bag her back. There was no time to waste. She maneuvered her legs to dangle out of the car and prepped herself to stand up. With a caution, she pushed herself out of the trunk and onto her feet.

The sharp pain almost sent her falling onto the concrete floor if not for her hands gripping the car—her nails scratching against the metallic surface. Her nostrils flared as she tried to calm herself with slow deep breaths through her nose. Her ankle hurt like a son of a buck—she couldn't give up though.

Bracing herself for more pain, she gingerly took another step, and then another with most of her weight pressed against the older model car. She was out of breath by the time she passed the driver's side door. Already exhausted, she turned to face the car and shifted her entire body weight onto it and off of her injured ankle. "What am I going to do?" she whispered to herself, worried.

She couldn't just camp in the trunk… she had to get back to Daryl. Sucking in another deep breath, Beth pushed herself off the car roughly, causing it to rock gently.

A jingling sound caught her attention. Beth titled her head and wondered if she was just hearing things. She pushed against the car again, this time with a little more force. Sure enough, something was jingling inside the car. She took a step closer to the driver's side door, and then peered into the window. Her bottom lip trembled with eagerness when she saw the car keys swinging from the ignition switch.

_Oh please… oh please let this work!_ She closed her eyes and prayed briefly before opening the door as quietly as she could after she made sure no walkers were in there. She limped around the door and slide into the hot leather driver's seat of the car. Biting her lip, and holding her breath, she applied pressure to the key and turned it once. Nothing. Twice, the engine stuttered. A final time, the engine roared to life.

Beth let out a cry of victory and clasped her hands together in front of her chest and thanked the lord for this miracle. There was no way that someone_; something_ wasn't looking out for her. Whatever, whoever it was— it wanted her to survive. She bit back her tears and stepped out of the car to shut the trunk and then shrugged off her backpack and shoved it in the front passenger seat before slipping back into the driver's seat.

This time, she strapped in her seat belt and shifted the gear to drive. Sure, her ankle throbbed in pain, but knowing that she didn't have to walk the entire distance home to Daryl… she was willing to take the hit.

Most definitely.

-0-

_Something's wrong… why is it so damn quiet? Where is… where is Beth?_

"Beth?" he tried his voice—man, it sounded grittier than sandpaper against sheetrock. There was bright light streaming through the windows, he knew that much from the way he squinted his eyes shut as he tried to open them.

His body ached, especially his lower left side. Actually, the word _ached _was a true understatement. He felt as if he had been cut open and left to rot—or however that felt like. He changed his position on the bed, bending his right leg and planted his foot against the soft surface of the bed. The mere action alone sent waves of stabbing pain up his spine, draining his already depleted energy.

He felt a pressure on top of his body and resistance when he lifted his leg. Cracking an eye open, he peered over the length of his body. Patterns—pale tan colored base with small flower patterns covered him. His eyebrows furrowed into a frown when he realized he was on a bed, covered with a blanket.

Bed? Blanket?

"Shit!" Daryl shot up into a sitting position, then immediately regretted his hasty decision when the sensation of being stabbed in his left side ripped through him, causing him to wince and cradle his side. Memories of what had happened before he lost consciousness began flooding back to him. They were running—him and Beth. Running from the walkers and the Joe's men, finally reached the funeral home. Then… then what? He shook his head, trying to clear his muddled thoughts. Beth… Beth started to clean him up.

Beth had saved him in more ways than one, he realized as he noticed the pristine white bandages covering his abdomen. He felt stickiness behind his left shoulder blade and realized that stab wound had been bandaged too.

His heart hammered in his chest—he was shirtless. Fuck. Fuck! He grimaced at the thought of innocent Beth seeing the scars on his back in courtesy of his drunk-ass father. He then recalled the sensation of soft lips pressing against the skin on his back in the darkness. Was that Beth?

Daryl groaned and clutched his head as a massive headache began to make itself known. He couldn't tell if he dreamt about her or if she really did kiss him—his back at least. His face flushed with the thought… beautiful, innocent Beth placing a kiss on his back after seeing his scars. Yeah, right. This isn't some damn romance novel. It was a dream, for damn sure.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, mindful of his injuries. Then, he noticed the half full bottle of diet soda they were drinking not too long ago. Suddenly aware of his parched throat, he snatched the bottle and uncapped it, chugging the sweet tasting liquid down not caring that the liquid was flat. He actually preferred water and the occasional beer—soda wasn't his thing.

He let out a groan of satiety when his thirst was finally quenched. He remained seated on the bed for a little while longer, wondering why there wasn't a sound to be heard. "Beth," he called out again, this time his voice louder and firm. He began to worry when there was no reply from her. He surveyed the room—a few pigs' feet bones scattered in a corner, a fallen blanket on the floor, a great pile of bloodied bandages, a basin of blood red water and tons of first aid supplies.

He had to hand it to her, Beth was quite resourceful. Since these items were still here—it must mean she was still in the proximity, right? Daryl eased himself onto his feet despite the pain from his side. His body felt sticky and he stunk like sweat, not to mention his jeans felt a bit damp as well. He must've had one hell of a fever. He slowly made his way to the window of the room, which happened to be behind a writing desk.

He brushed aside a part of the curtain to check ground floor. All was quiet—not a soul in sight. "Hmm," he hummed to no one in particular when he noticed that some of the leaves on the trees were beginning to change to a darker shade of green. It'll be autumn soon, if it isn't already… then come winter. He had somehow managed to survive through the night in this safe place. He meant it when he told Beth they could make this place their own. The area was perfectly secluded; the house had boarded up windows, plenty of wood nearby to work and use. The place ran on propane, there could be heat if he could fix it up somehow.

This place was so well managed when he and Beth intruded, there was no way that certain utilities didn't work. And… and the expression on Beth's face when he told her that they don't have to keep running—it is worth the effort to try and secure this place further.

It'll just be him and Beth. The very thought put a small smile on his face—this place may not be a whole lot, but it'll be just him and Beth. And that's all he could really ask for at this moment in time.

With his mood lightened, Daryl pulled his hand from the curtains and motioned to turn around. The soft push of air from the curtain falling back to its place rustled a piece of paper on the desk, catching his attention. He picked up the small note and brought it closer to his eyes.

_"On a run to grab some more meds, be back soon. –Beth."_

Daryl inhaled sharply, shocked. Panic began flooding through him. His previously light mood turned sour and afraid—afraid of the thought of being alone, afraid of losing Beth… because of him. _This can't be happening_, he hissed to himself. Frantically looking about the room, he spotted his crossbow and bloodied shirt on the floor near the foot of the bed.

"Damnit Beth," he cursed repeatedly in his head. Scenario after scenario played in his head—all of which revolved around Beth dying. Dying by walkers or worse… being kidnapped again. His breaths became rapid and shallow as he pushed through the pain from his injuries to pull on his shirt and gripped the handle to his crossbow. His hands were shaky from the adrenaline; nothing mattered to him at this moment but to rescue Beth. He had to find her, somehow.

It wasn't as if he would die without her… no. He wanted her in his life. He wanted to hear her soft, sweet singing. He wanted to continue to see her confidence growth as he teaches her more survival skills. He wanted to see her bright smile and hear her say '_there are still good people in this world, Daryl._' He just… wants her.

Daryl made his way quickly down the stairs, cautious on what he'll find on the first floor. He could smell the decaying corpse he had killed when he was in the basement, other than that, not a sound was made.

Then he heard it—the sound of an engine. Gripping his crossbow securely, he made his way to the front door and peered between the wooden boards on the door. An old, red Cadillac DeVille pulled up to the funeral home, the shadows of the tree limbs obscured the face of the driver.

He readied his crossbow, his hand on the doorknob, ready to swing the door open and shoot the intruder dead. Out from the tree line, he spotted a walker trailing the car. He briefly debated if he should kill the walker first or the driver. With abated breath, he watched as the driver's side door open after the engine cut off, and the walker now only yards away from the car.

The door remained open, no one stepped out. Soon, the straggler walker closed in, its decaying arms flung out in front of it as it launched an attack on the mysterious driver.

He heard a cry—it almost sounded as if the stranger was Beth.

Then he saw it. Her beautiful mess of blonde hair. Beth.

He swung the door open, took a step into the porch and fired his crossbow at the walker's head. It slumped over immediately, toppling over Beth.

"Beth!" he yelled for her, and untied the sound trap from the pillar and jolted towards her. He saw her struggle to push the deceased walker off of her and was worried if she was injured on her run. "Beth! What the hell?" he hissed after he kicked the walker off of her.

"What the hell were you thinking, going off on your own like that? You could'a been killed out there!" he let his anger slip, unable to control the rush of emotions coursing through him. His chest heaved—he didn't want to be upset, but damned be he couldn't control it. He thought he had lost her. He really, truly did.

With a frown on his face, he watched Beth raise her head slowly—her eyes full of shock.

"Daryl?" she whispered, her bottom lip trembling, her eyes filled with unshed tears.

He was taken aback by the onslaught of tears falling from her eyes, and the smile of relief on her face. But he wasn't going to let it slide—he's going to make sure she gets an earful from him. "What were the hell were you think—"

Daryl stumbled a few steps back when Beth crashed into his body in a tight hug.

"You're okay? You're okay!"

He felt her press her tears stained cheeks against his chest, her arms encircled around his waist under his shirt, crushing his body tightly against hers.

"I thought… your fever… I was scared you were gonna die," she sobbed, barely able to speak her words.

Then it all made sense to him. It would explain the note, his drenched clothes, his extreme thirst and muddled memory. He must've had a high fever that didn't go away, forcing Beth to make the decision to go out on her own.

His anger dissipated into thin air, a sense of relief and humbleness washed over him. Here he was, about to chew her ears off for going off on her own when she must've been scared out of her mind. She did it for him. She did it for him…

He didn't care about the pain that Beth was causing him through her desperate hug—he relished in it despite the pain. She must've been so worried about him the entire time. She was so naïve… so gentle, sweet… so… Beth.

With a soft chuckle, Daryl enveloped an arm around her waist and pulled her flushed to him. He buried his face into the crook of her neck, his free hand stroking the back of her neck in soft caresses. For the first time in his life, holding a woman in his arms had never felt more right. His lips gently brushed against the shell of her ear, and he whispers tenderly…

"I'm here, Beth… I'm here. And I ain't going anywhere."

/

**J.R.** \- :P Reunion!

Let the fluffy times begin! They still need time to sort out their feelings for each other. So… the kissing… maybe within the next couple of chapters. The sexy time? Still a while to go!

This is a slow burn chaptered series… so please be patient with me. I intend to see this entire story through, with the resolution of walkers! Expect lots of chapters!

Also, I will be bringing in other main characters in within the next few chapters (3-5). [RickxMichonne] [CarolxTyreese] [GlenxMaggie]

Review junkies like me tend to update faster with more reviews!

Thanks for reading, please review folks!


	12. Hugs, Fevers and Nightmares

**Take Me as I Am**  
Chapter 12_  
[Hugs, Fever and Nightmares]_

There was something about this one little lady that makes him—well, uncomfortable. Maybe _uncomfortable_ is too strong a word to describe this odd sensation. _Uneasy_, yeah that's more like it. Beth, with her clumsy attack stances and her sparkling smile, she made him feel uneasy… different… fierce even. Because of her, he had a reason to live. Because of her, he somehow was able to deal with plunging a knife into his brother's head. He didn't realize just how fiercely he wanted to keep her from harm until now.

When he limped down those stairs of the home, all he could think about was his failure. If she had turned, or even died, it was his own damn fault because he was too weak to protect her. Hell, if he told Beth that, she would most likely give him one of her upset frowns and scold him with her eyes.

That's what he loved—_liked_ most about her. She didn't give a damn that he could've left her to her own devices; she spoke what was on her mind and about how she felt of the whole shitty situation they were in. That's more than he can say about the others.

Beth shifted in his arms, most of her weight suddenly pushed against him. If he didn't know any better, he would say she was trying to seduce him—but he wasn't a horny little teenager who just found out about sex and masturbation. Something was wrong.

"Beth, you okay there?" Daryl pulled back to catch a glimpse of her face—he couldn't see much with her hair shielding her face like a curtain. He bit back a hiss of pain as he shifted her weight onto one side, freeing one of his arms. He brushed aside the messy curtain of hair, instantly alarmed of her current state. Her face was flushed bright red with beads of sweat dotting her forehead. He pressed his cheek against her forehead, and he'll be damned—it was hot enough to melt an iceberg in seconds.

Daryl frowned, devastatingly upset at her for carrying on the run without him. He was elated just seconds ago to find out she didn't die on the run and yet now, here she is, in his arms burning a high fever. He shook her gently in his arms and waited for a response. No luck.

Muttering curses under his breath, he tucked Beth closer to his body with an arm around her waist, and tossed one of her arms over his shoulders so he could carry her. It was the less effective way to go, but there was no telling how he'll hurt her if he carried her in his arms with his injuries. Tentatively, he pulled the heavy backpack by its woven handle and closed the car door shut with a gentle click. He figured the last thing they needed now was a herd of walkers hearing him slam the metal door shut.

Gradually, he guided her up the porch stairs and into the home. It smelled like rotting corpses in the hall—surely from the walkers he had killed the week before. He made a mental note to remove those bodies later on. He eased the front door shut behind him with a foot before dropping the backpack onto the floor. He shifted Beth until he was in front of her, pulled her arms over his shoulders and hoisted her up on his back. Much like the way he carried her when they first came across the graveyard.

It was times like these where he wished he was Superman—or even Spiderman with his spidey skills. He'd wrap her up in a web and drag her up the stairs in a soft web cocoon. Unreasonable, yes. Only because he was in no shape to carry a grown woman up the stairs on his back. He laughed at the irony of it all—Beth going out on a run to save his ass only to have him carry her up the stairs in return. Still, even then, he was mighty happy he wasn't going to be alone.

By the time he reached the top of the stairs, he was drenched in sweat and felt lightheaded. His left side started to burn like shit too. He made his way into the bedroom he woke up on and eased her onto the bed. She fell onto it like a ragdoll, listlessly. He slipped the pillow under her head and lifted her legs onto the bed before making his way back down the stairs.

Daryl made sure to tie the sound alarm back onto the pillar with a sturdy knot before grabbing the backpack and made his way back to Beth. Setting the backpack onto the floor beside the bed, he slumped onto the floor with a pained groan and began shifting through the contents.

His mouth watered when he saw the Campbell's soup. "What the hell?" It felt as if it was too good to be true. He hadn't had one of those since before shit hit the fan over two years ago. An odd sensation settled in his chest—Beth had found all these supplies on her own. It satisfied him that she was able to scavenge without him. Then again, it felt kind of shitty too. Maybe she really didn't need him to protect her anymore.

_Bullshit, she needs _me—he told himself. The soup can and a bottle of water was placed onto the nightstand beside the bed. They would have to make do until he was well enough to go hunt or go on a run. Then he saw them, the two huge bottles of over the counter painkillers.

He was speechless to say the least. He exchanged glances between Beth's slumbering face and the bottles of meds in his hands and let out an impressed scoff, "You're one of a kind, you know that Beth?" He unscrewed the lid and tossed a couple in his mouth.

"Thank you."

Daryl turned his head sharply at the sound of her voice, nearly choking on the pills that almost lodged in his throat. He coughed, pounded his chest before snatching the bottle of water from the nightstand and took a swig of the sweet tasting pure liquid. "What the hell? You're awake?"

Beth gave him a weak smile and a nod, "Yeah… didn't realize I passed out." She began to shift to a seating position on the bed until Daryl stopped her by placing his hand on her arm.

"You have a fever—take these and sleep," he ordered curtly, pouring out two generic Tylenol pills and offered it to Beth.

She shook her head, "I took some earlier… I'll be okay."

Daryl scowled, not satisfied with her answer. "You still have a fever after taking these?"

She shrugged in return, offering him no response but a soft sigh as she fell back onto the bed, exhausted. After a long pause, her soft voice broke the growing tension in the room. "I think I was driving for fifteen minutes or so… they probably didn't kick in yet," she offered. "The small town near here has a pharmacy… I found a map in the drawer over there."

"So you decided to go out on your own, with a hurt ankle like an idiot? You could'a died," his grip on her forearm unintentionally tightened at the thought of her brave yet stupid decision.

Beth immediately cringed and pulled her arm back with a hiss, "Ouch." She cradled her arm closer to her body.

Daryl immediate shifted into a kneeling position and grabbed her injured arm in his hands. It was then when he noticed the desolate state of her clothes—her grey sweater tore at that sleeve, buttons missing, the brown button up shirt bloodied and crumpled. She must've had a hard time on the run alone. "Are you bit?"

Concern grew when she yanked her arm away from him and pulled herself up the bed and closer towards the headboard. He saw conflict bubbling in her blue depths, and then he suddenly feared the worse. "Did you get bit?" He asked again, this time his voice hard and graveled.

She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, still not willing to answer him. Having had enough of her silence, Daryl pulled her arm roughly and yanked the brown shirt sleeve up her arm to reveal the skin underneath.

He slumped back onto the floor, his rump sitting over his heels at the sight before him. Unmistakably, there was a bite mark on her arm—angry red and inflamed. "Beth?" His voice waivered under his uncertainty—he didn't know what to do. The idea of having to put a knife into her pretty head grew increasingly realistic… he didn't know if he could do it. His chest constricted painfully, his breathing grew labored, the palms of his hands grew sweaty and numb.

"I was bit… yes," she began, her lively eyes peering deeply into his. "Not by walkers," she finally supplied after holding his gaze prisoner for the longest minute.

It sickened him that the first words out of his mouth were asking if she was telling the truth or not. It had slipped out before he registered the implication of his words.

"I'm not lying, Daryl. Don't you trust me?" No sooner did she challenge his trust in her, she pulled her arm away and stared at the curtain covered window—her jaw tense, eyes betrayed her hurt emotion. "After all this… you don't trust me, do you?"

At some point, Daryl felt his heart break a little. He wasn't one for roses and poetry, yeah he had trust issues. But he'll be damned if he started to distrust her too—after all, he had been asking her to trust him completely… almost blindly. He didn't answer her as he grabbed the bottle of peroxide and some bandages, and then settled on the edge of the bed. She resisted when he started to pull her arm onto his lap, but he was just as stubborn as she was. Needless to say, she lost the battle of wills.

He studied the angry teeth marks marring her smooth skin—it didn't look like a walker's bite. His hand held onto her elbow while his other poured the peroxide over the wound. He heard her muffling her cry of surprise and pain, but he didn't look at her. He made short work on cleaning and bandaging it, when finally done with the task, he rested his loosely above hers. He marveled at how slender and pale her fingers were as their fingers intertwined into an embrace.

Someone that was so small, fragile had to wake up immediately after witnessing the death of her father. That said someone managed to find medicine and food with an injured ankle. Although he knew she was no longer a helpless child, it didn't honestly hit home until now.

"You owe me an apology."

Daryl smirked at her comment, "Smart ass." He heard her scoff—sounding a bit amused. Then he turned to her, his left hand still entwined with her right. His free hand reached up to brush the side of her face, forcing her to turn to face him. When she did, he felt like the biggest ass in the world when he saw the pain in her eyes.

Daryl Dixon hardly apologizes, and when he does… the process is difficult but he sure as hell meant it. "Sorry," he managed to blurt out rather gruffly. He inwardly grimaced at his tone, turning his head away and dropping his hand from her face and released his hand from her hand.

She didn't say a word then, if she smiled—he wouldn't have known. He didn't want her to see the embarrassment in his face. Before he knew it, Beth shifted on the bed and turned away from him. He casted a glance over her frame from the corners of his eyes after a few minutes of silence, to find her sleeping soundly.

Not wanting to disturb her, nor feeling he could be in the same room with her at the moment, he stalked out of the room, ready to put his increasing energy in doing something that will occupy his time and brain.

-0-

Night was beginning to fall on him as he dragged in the last three fallen tree limbs into the hall of the home. Daryl spent the last few hours scouting the forest around the home. Despite his serious injuries, he felt as if he needed to get some fresh air. He didn't want to do any strenuous labor but the moment he saw large limbs on the forest ground, an idea dawned on him.

If they were to spend some time in this home, it had to be protected. He seen this once, sharpening long tree limbs into spears and drive them into the ground at angles between 45 to 55 degrees to impale walkers and hold them at bay. It was certainly a great idea. Such a shame he didn't think of it himself.

At least that way, he and Beth stood a chance at surviving large herds that may pass through this way. He had gathered roughly fifteen to twenty limbs ranging from four feet long to six. Most of them were the shorter length. Some of them he had to break from the trees—they were barren anyway.

The night air was chilly, signaling the impending wave of winter that will sweep through the forest. The faster they were able to secure the home, the better. He secured the sound trap after he was done and shut the door to the home. He wasn't at the strength to remove the decaying corpses from the basement just yet—despite how much he hated the smell of death.

A sudden cry from Beth upstairs startled him into action. He sprinted up the stairs without hesitating, his knife drawn and ready to attack, "Beth!"

Daryl barged in through the bedroom door, his eyes darted about to find an intruder who dared to hurt her. In the dying light streaming through the windows, he saw Beth cringing on the bed, alone. Startled cries echoed in the room, Daryl quickly sheathed his knife, relieved. Beth was having a nightmare again.

He made his way over to her. He heard soft pleas of '_no_' and '_please_' passing through her lips—he didn't have to wonder what her nightmare was about. Bile bubbled up his throat at the thought her reliving the memories of what had happened just a few days ago. It was a constant reminder that had he been just a second later, she would've been violated in the most evil of ways.

"Beth, hey…" he shook her shoulders lightly. He wasn't prepared when she began clawing at him with her hands, still engulfed in her nightmare. "Ow! Jeez, dam't Beth!" he hissed when a hand scratched his sensitive ear. He shook her again, harder. "Beth!"

"_No! No_!" Large tears slipped from the corners of her eyes, her head thrashed from side to side in agony.

Daryl cursed under his breath, unable and unwilling to be her scratching post any longer; he pulled her up and tucked her in his arms. She still thrashed but this time, his large arms encircled just under her shoulders, preventing her from abusing him with her nails any more. He sighed a breath of relief when her arms stilled but her breathing was labored.

He heard her sniffling; her previously aggressive hands gripped at his waist then snaked up his back, pressing her trembling body closer to his. "You okay?" his voice thick, laced with concern. It was one of those, _no-you-idiot_ questions that didn't need to be asked. It just slipped out of habit.

She didn't answer him with words but with a nod of her head instead.

He would've held her in his arms forever if he could—his injured abdomen began to ache and he was forced to release her. "You should sleep," it was a pathetic suggestion seeing how she just relieved a memory in her nightmare. He just didn't know what to say to her.

For the longest moment, she didn't answer him. She simply held onto his waist, silently and still trembling softly.

"Will you sleep with me?" her innocent question sent shivers up his spine.

Daryl stuttered, released his grip on her as if her touch burned him. "What?" Images of a heated, panting Beth with her hair sprawled out behind her on the soft bed flashed through his eyes. He cleared his throat and turned his head away from her abruptly, despite that fact that night has descended over them and darkness engulfed the room.

"I don't want to be alone… I … I can't do it. Will you lay down with me?" she rephrased her question, unfazed. She sniffled again, waiting for an answer—the lump in his throat rendered him mute.

"… Never mind. I'm okay," she whispered before releasing his waist and moved to lay back down on the bed.

Daryl chewed at the tip of his thumb, his other arm tucked around his chest. He wasn't a damn teenager—he shouldn't be having thoughts like that when she needed comfort. Not sex. He'll be damned if he let his man-urges get the best of him—not when she needed him. With a defeated sigh, Daryl settled into the bed, dangerously close from falling off the bed.

Once he laid his head on the pillow and adjusted in a more comfortable position, he felt Beth stir beside him.

"Daryl?" her soft voice called out to him.

"I'm here," was his gruff reply.

The bed shifted on her side, in the darkness he made out her blonde hair swaying with her actions. He felt soft skin press against his left shoulder, warm breath heating the side of his chest and underarm—sending shivers up his spine, exciting his _little friend._ He chewed on his bottom lip, wondering if this was a horribly bad idea.

A content sigh slipped from her lips and he felt her cheek move as she smiled. "Thank you…"

His initial thought was, '_You shouldn't be thanking me just yet girl_.' Then he mentally scolded himself as soon as that thought popped up. He scoffed, amused at how his body reacted to her. It almost felt right—perfect. He knew differently though. He was nearly twice her age, he had no business touching her that way.

He felt her soft hands entwine themselves in his larger hand closest to her, pulling her body closer to his until his arm brushed against the top of the soft mounds of her breasts.

_Fuck._ If she wasn't Beth, he would assume that this woman is trying to seduce him. Then he would shove her off and call her a whore—or fuck her in an alleyway or bathroom stall. He had done that before. He is a man, with manly urges after all. That was the issue though. This little lady most precisely _is_ Beth. Sweet, innocent Beth—who knows there is good in the world despite all the shit that had happened to her.

He sighed and his thoughts drifted to the future months to come. Would he be able to survive knowing that he was a man and she was a woman— a beautiful, sweet girl with eyes as bright as the clear summer sky and curves that he hadn't noticed before.

_Ugh._ This was going to be a very, _very_ long night.

/

**J.R.-** Hmmm no lemons just yet. They haven't even shared their first kiss! Maybe they will kiss soon… maybe not! Who knows? :P

Thanks for all the amazing reviews!

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please continue to review!


	13. Chances Are

**Warning: Explicit Language**

**Take Me as I Am**  
Chapter 13_  
[Chances Are…]_

At some point through the night, she must've gotten too cold and scooted closer to Daryl so she could keep warm. Yeah, that's it.

Or that's what she has been telling herself when she woke with a start, finding her head nestled comfortably on his chest with an arm sprawled across his stomach and a leg entangled with his. There was nothing sensual or intimate about it, she kept telling herself. Not even when she noticed the arm she was laying against was curled up against her back, his hand resting on her waist. Yeah, how they slept last night was for warmth only… not for any other reason.

Gosh, if she didn't know any better, she would say that's a position couples— _lovers,_ take after a tiring night of hot sex.

_What are you thinking?!_ She hissed at herself, shaking her head at the very thought. Of course she knew better. She and Daryl weren't a couple… they … they were just getting by… surviving.

She stole a peak of Daryl through the tops of her lashes, still keeping her head low. He was carving out the tips to the tree limbs he got—still silent. They had woken up to _cuddling_ almost four hours ago. According to the watch she grabbed from the pharmacy, it was past noon. For the entire four hours they were awake, he didn't say a word to her, not even when she asked him questions.

She couldn't deny it though, she hasn't had a good night's sleep until last night—when she was in his arms, secured and protected. She could deny it all she wants, which she will, but it was darn near dreamy. Not to mention she hadn't dreamed of seeing her beloved daddy decapitated, or the Father who died… or Randy trying to rape her.

Beth tried to suppress a haunting shiver crawling up her spine. She failed as the chilling sensation raised goose-bumps on her skin, causing her to wrap her arms around each other, rubbing her biceps for warmth and comfort. She hated those memories. Just merely thinking about what happened or what could've happened made her heart freeze in fear and her eyes swell with tears.

Daryl must've known what was on her mind. He crossed the small distance from his seat on the floor against the wall to her, kneeling in front of her before placing a rough, calloused hand on her knee. A platonic gesture. He was silent for a while before his rusty baritone voice traveled to her ears.

"You wanna help me with this?"

He offered no condolences or words of comfort, just a suggestion, maybe a command, to keep her mind preoccupied with labor. It was so… Daryl. The only time he truly was not the symbolic Daryl was when he rescued her from Randy's assault. His sweet promises of protection, his apologies for not being able to prevent it—she was surprised he had it in him. She would've called him out on it if it weren't for the shock she was in. She doubts he'll do that again.

Beth offered him a small smile and a nod, "Yeah, sure."

Daryl grabbed a few pillows from the bed and piled it near his previous seat on the floor, next to the stack of tree limbs. He had trudged them up the stairs after he shot out of bed when he noticed the compromising position they were in when they awoke. Since then, he had been meticulously carving at them.

He slipped an arm under her knees and one around the back of her shoulders to hoist her into his arms. He made no sound of discomfort or distress from carrying her weight despite his injuries. She was surprised at how quickly he was recovering and marveled if by chance, Daryl could be a superhero. He did after all; notice she had hurt herself despite keeping her mouth shut.

She couldn't hide the fact that she had another injured ankle. Earlier, when she took off her boots and started to wrap the injured foot, she saw Daryl's disapproving glare when he entered the room. She really hoped he would've been preoccupied downstairs for just a tad bit longer. She knew he was pissed that she went out on her own—but hey, on the bright side… the few things she did manage to get would last them a couple of days, not including the stash of food in the cabinets downstairs. They would be able to stay at the home and recover until they were well enough. And, some of the meds helped her with the swelling and pain and Daryl's fever. Win-win!

"Okay, grab the middle like this," Daryl started to demonstrate how to carve at the limbs after he returned to his seat.

Beth couldn't help but stare at the way the hard planes of his chest and abdomen flexed with every movement he made. He was a man of power, strength and skill. Everything about him oozed _alpha male_—though she noticed he seemed to dislike the role of leading. She continued staring, oblivious to his instructions. His skin was paler under his shirt, not kissed by the sun like his arms, neck and face. What other reason could there be but from the scars marring his back?

"You got dirt in your ears or what? Are you even paying attention?"

She snapped her vision back to his frowning face; she returned his questions with a blush and pulled the tree limb closer to her body. She cleared her throat and straightened her back, embarrassed he caught her staring at him. "I was listening," she clipped, her tone snappy and began to chip at the end of the broken branch.

"'fraid not from the way you're butchering it. Look, you got to curve your blade like this," he demonstrated it for her again.

Beth mimicked his action, thinking she was doing a good job.

"No, Beth. Like this," he gruffed out, again, slicing against the limb.

"I am doing it like you're showing me!" Beth retorted, raising her voice in frustration. "I can't help it if it's not perfect like yours!"

Daryl let out a soft growl from his throat before pushing his work aside and then kneeled behind her, his chest facing her back. His arms encircled around her shoulders, his calloused hands covered hers as he showed her the proper way to carve.

Beth could feel his hot breath to the side of her neck, some tickling her cheek. A heated red blush exploded on her face at his close proximity. If it weren't for their clothes separating the two, his hard, bare chest would've been pressing against her back. She gave full control of her hands to Daryl, mesmerized by his musky scent and rusty voice rumbling in her ears. Something inside her quivered, the sensation caused her to shiver in response; her breath quickened.

His hands stopped moving, frozen in mid action. She heard him swallow thickly; his breathing grew shallow and quickened as well. She could feel his heart hammering in his chest as he held her—her heart followed suit. His hands tightened around hers, the heat of his hands sent delightful tingles up her arms.

"You got it?" he asked stiffly, his voice thick and husky.

A chill crawled up her spine at his tone of voice, and found that she rather enjoyed having his heat and musk surrounding her.

He released his grip on her hands and was ready to pull back from her until she stopped him. She felt disappointed when he released her—she enjoyed his warmth, more than anything she could compare it to. He made her forget about her demons. When he touched her, even if it was the simplest of gestures, it gave her comfort. She wasn't going to let that go… not right now, maybe not ever.

"Can you… show me again?" she whispered, abashed.

Daryl cleared his throat and hesitated. "Again?"

Beth turned her head to face him, her nose just inches from touching his lips. "Yes… again," her eyes down casted from his eyes to his supple lips. They looked slightly pale—mostly due to bloodloss, but he was getting better. Either way, something tempted her. There was something about Daryl Dixon that made her womanly senses go haywire. Maybe it was the fever she had last evening or from sheer exhaustion, but by golly, she was trying hard to resist.

He nodded stiffly and took his position behind her again, wrapping his hands over hers as his chest gently pressed against her back.

Beth relished at the sensation. She could hardly focus on the motion of her hands carving at the wood; she had closed her eyes and tilted her head back until she rested against his shoulder. His heat engulfed her, surrounded her—empowered her. She felt like a crushing preteen who was hugging her biggest crush. It was odd. It was welcomed. It was _wanted_.

"Beth?" he called for her softly, his voice grainy and unsure.

A small smile appeared on her face and she shook her head lightly. "Shh…" she began, softly whispering to him, "Just… stay like this. Just for a bit. Please…"

Her heart soared with an unknown feeling when she felt Daryl shift into a different position—his hands released hers but one gripped at her left hip, his legs sprawled out beside her, one on each side. He let her head rest on his shoulder, and silence descended upon the two of them comfortably.

-0-

Daryl had his eyes shut, his chin pressing into Beth's right shoulder. He didn't put too much weight on her shoulder. The last thing he wanted to do was injure her shoulder because of him.

Inwardly, he let out a sigh of exhaustion. When he saw that she was tending to the newly injured ankle, he felt his anger bubble from his stomach. He wasn't there to prevent it, to help her when she probably needed him most. To protect her from his anger, he held his tongue between his teeth the entire time. She didn't deserve his anger—he wasn't angry at her, not really.

He was just frustrated beyond belief. He woke up to have her soft body, curves and all pressed up against him without a care in the world. He wanted to yell at her and call her stupid for not protecting herself against the dangers of men—against men like him. Yeah, he saved her from Randy but damned be, if he had sex with Beth, he would be no different than that bastard.

It disgusted him that his body reacted the way it did to her touches. Even now, he fights against the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless before making her completely his. His possession knows no boundaries—that's for sure. The last thing he wants to do is force her to do something she doesn't want to. There was a great many of 'last things' he doesn't want to do to her.

She is different. She is special… _she is Beth_. There was something beautiful about her, he didn't want to soil.

The worse part—he had a feeling she felt the same way. Both lured… tempted by each other but both too afraid to cross those boundaries for fear of what may happen afterwards. He had to be strong, to enforce these boundaries and walls for her sake.

Well damn, it's harder to protect her from himself than anyone else.

_Clank… clank… ruff! **Wruff**! Woof!_

Beth jumped up from her position and spun around to face him, her face frantic.

"Dooley, that's Dooley!" she sprang onto her feet and limped her way towards the stairs, leaving Daryl in the dust. "He's alive!"

_Wruff! Wruff! **Yelp**!_

"Beth, wait!" Daryl wasn't sure what the hell was going on, only that Beth was about to barge down the stairs weaponless, and possibly run into a herd of walkers and be torn apart. His heart began racing in his chest as he grabbed his crossbow and the knives they laid on top of the desk, sprung on the heels of his boots and hurried after Beth.

He didn't know how that woman can fly down that flight of stairs with two injured ankles, given, one was probably all healed. Even then, she threw open the front door by the time he reached the top end of the stairs. "God damnit, Beth. _Fucking wait for me_!" he hollered at her.

"Dooley! Dooley, come here! _Ahh_!"

He jumped the last quarter of the stairs when he heard her scream, followed by frantic barks from a dog, he presumed to be Dooley as Beth called him.

"Beth!" He hollered for her when he busted through the front door. "_Fuck,"_ he cursed sharply as he shot down the walker attacking Beth, a dried flesh clinging to its decaying jaws. He had no time to spare as other nearby walkers approached them. A small herd of eight was heading their way from the tree line. Daryl reached Beth in record time and tossed her his knife, which she grateful received before turning her attention to the incoming walkers.

The house may not hold back eight walkers, even if it did, it may compromise the structure or stability of it. The best way was to kill them—they were too close to be distracted anyway. Daryl kept an eye on Beth as she tackled the one closest to her. He also noticed the dog helping her; biting and pulling at the pant legs or shoes of walkers to bring them down.

His stitches began to burn with each walker he killed. Walker after walker, the undead continued to stalk towards them. He must've dispatched seven already, but there was more on the way. This was not looking good.

"Beth! _Beth_! Get in the house!" he hollered to her over his shoulders. Aiming his crossbow, he took down another before plunging his knife into a walker that had gotten too close for comfort. He could hear Beth struggling near him, but he couldn't turn his attention away as the two walkers lunged at him simultaneously.

"Beth?!" He hollered for her again, taking down one more. The stream of walkers died down to one last one. Yanking out one of his arrows from a walker's head, he aimed it and fired, hitting his target. Sweat drenched his forehead and body, his muscles weak from exhaustion and was briefly surveying the forest tree line for more walkers until he heard her scream.

"**Daryl**!" her bloodcurdling shriek pierced into his heart like knife would.

His body flipped around to find her, pinned on the forest floor with a burly, relatively new walker throwing its head back as it relished her fresh, red blood with a bandage dangling from his lips, caught between his teeth. She cried helplessly, kicking at it as it reached in for a second time, this time ready to bite into her flesh.

Daryl bit back a sob, a cry of denial as aimed his crossbow at its head, then releasing the trigger. The walker slumped on top of Beth; he raced over to her and kicked it off of her—his eyes already welling with unshed tears.

"No, no! Get back!" She howled, shoving Daryl back and away from her. Beth cradled her bleeding arm against her chest, her blue eyes clouded with fear and uncertainty, tears already staining her cheeks. Beth's breaths came out rapid and shallow as she tried to keep herself from sobbing. She looked down at her bleeding forearm before burying her face in her hand in a fit of wails.

"Beth…" Daryl took an unsteady step towards her, doing all that he could to show strength in front of her.

"No… stay there. You… you have to go on Daryl. I don't… I don't want to turn," she cried, her anger and hurt echoed in her voice. She hiccupped as she held back her tears, and straightened her position on the floor until she kneeled in front of him, clutching her injured arm to her chest.

Beth looked up at him, her piercing sky blue eyes staring him down with a certainty that sent ice, freezing his heart.

"You have to do it, Daryl. There's no one else," despite the tears streaking her face, she forced her words to be calm.

Daryl shook his head, "Nah… Nah. I don't know what you're talking about. Get your ass back in the house." He wanted to sound firm, but his voice waivered, giving him away. His bottom lip trembled, his heart clenched painfully in his chest.

"_Do it, Daryl! _ Before I turn. I'll do it myself if I have to… but please Daryl," she wept, her eyes pleading. "I don't want to do it to myself… please… help me Daryl. Don't let me hurt someone. _Don't let me hurt you… please!_"

"_FUCK! Motherfucking assholes! Son of a fucking bitch!_" Daryl roared, running to a nearby walker and kicking its lifeless body repeatedly until he fell over, energy shattered. He let out a humorless chuckle and stared up into the sky, his eyes wide with anger.

"_FUCK YOU!_" He thundered into the sky, lifting his hand and flipping the middle finger into the air. "Fuck you…"

"Daryl… please…" Beth's soft, pleading voice drew him out of his rage. "Please do this for me…"

He inhaled sharply, still in rage, drew his crossbow into his arms and stalked towards her, pulling the arrow from the unanimated corpse's head. He paused right next to her after he loaded his crossbow. His face hard, and void of emotion, he reached over and stroked her tear and blood stained cheeks.

How did this happen?

How did he fail to protect her?

How could he… end her life just like that?

_This shit is harder the second time around_, he thought as he backed away from her, clutching his crossbow in his hands until his entire back of his hands almost turned white.

His hands trembled has he lifted his crossbow when he reached fifteen feet away from her kneeling form. He held his breath, not wanting to breathe or to waste another precious second on anything else but to study her beautiful face.

Damn it. She is beautiful.

**Damn it**… even with all the shit she gone through, she wanted to end her life before she could have a chance of hurting someone else.

**Damn it.** She brought out the good in him… if he did this. If he kills her, symbolically he would be killing his goodness—his heart.

**Damn it.** She might as well hold his heart out in her hands. There was no doubt about it now… Beth meant something to him… something much deeper than physical needs. She meant so much more to him than just someone needing his protection. She is Beth… the light in his soul.

_Why?_

_ Why did the walkers have to come?_

_ Why does she have to go?_

"Hurry Daryl," she whispered, breaking his trance.

He peered through his scope, aiming at her beautiful face. He saw her bottom lip tremble as he bit the inside of his cheek from sobbing out loud as his finger traced over the trigger. His vision cleared minutely as unshed tears now fell freely from his eyes, splattering onto the sleeve of his shirt.

Dooley, by Beth's side, began to growl at him—ready to defend her.

Stupid dog.

_Why did you bring these walkers? _

Stupid dog.

_ You know you're about to make me kill this woman? This beautiful, selfless woman with a heart of gold? The keeper of my heart?_

Stupid _fucking _dog.

"I've always known you're going to be the last man standing, Daryl Dixon," Beth began her final words, her tears matching his as they fell from both their eyes in synchronized time. "For what it's worth, Daryl… I… I… Daryl—I…" She was unable to finish her sentence as a wave of sobs racked her small form.

"Goodbye," she managed to choke out before clenching her eyes shut and lifting her head towards the sky, ready for him to fire the shot.

Daryl shut his eyes, his finger tensed at trigger. He willed himself to do it. It had to be done.

_ Why did it have to be her?_

_ Why couldn't it have been me instead?_

With a sharp intake of his breath, he pulled the trigger.

-0-

_I –**was**– going to end it here, but I think I might get hate mail if I didn't continue it!_

-0-

His arrow thudded loudly against a nearby tree behind Beth, splintering the bark.

"No," Daryl thundered, tossing his crossbow to the side. "You ain't going anywhere, Beth Greene."

In that last split second, Daryl made a decision; perhaps one of the most important and difficult decisions of his life. _He was going to take his chances._ Against all logic, he wasn't going to kill her.

Never. Ever.

Not Beth.

Beth's eyes snapped open in shock, "Why? You have to!"

Daryl ignored her. There was nothing she could do about it. He was going to make sure she lived—one way or another. He closed in on her, taking long strides to her until he was standing right in front of her, ready to make good of his word.

She pushed herself onto her feet and tried to get away from him, "Daryl, you have to stay away! I don't want to hurt you!"

"**No!**" He growled, digging his fingers into her shoulders, holding her still. "I ain't going to do it Beth. I ain't got the fucking balls to put an arrow in your head. I don't give a damn what you think, but I'm going to save you, Greene. Why? Because you're _mine_, and damn it, I ain't fucking losing something that's mine. Not to no fucking virus, not to a fucking zombie.

You're mine, Beth Greene and you ain't going anywhere."

He didn't bother to wait for her response. He didn't care what she had to say. Not right at this moment. He threaded his hand into her blonde tresses at the back of her head and pulled her towards him until her soft body was flushed against his.

An arm encircled her waist, tipping her head back; he crushed his lips against hers in a bruising, desperate kiss. She tasted of sweat, vanilla and sunshine—just as he always thought she would taste.

No matter what it takes, he will keep her alive.

He couldn't bear to lose her—not when she was the light in his life, the good in his soul… the woman he grew to love.

/

/

/

**JR-** Okay, okay. Please hold your pitch forks and torches for another chapter? So, we get a confession from Daryl! Yay! Downside, Beth has been bitten.

Did I stir something in you as you read this chapter? Lol!

Seriously, don't hurt me. At least I didn't end it where I originally planned! Right?

I get cookies for that don't I?

3

**Let me know your thoughts, please review! **


	14. Candy Wrapper

**There will be time gaps in this chapter to bring it up to speed.  
I promise, there is a purpose for it!**

_** I am VERY EXCITED to announce that the Walking Dead Season 5 Trailer is out and it WILL be supporting the theory I had going for this story! I intend to see this story all the way through, who is with me?! **_

**Take Me as I Am**  
Chapter 14_  
[Candy Wrapper]_

_ She was being burned alive. _

_ From the tip of her toes to the top of her head, fire trapped her in a fiery labyrinth she couldn't escape from._

_ Everywhere she ran within the walls of fire, the undead followed. _

_ They beckoned her with whispers of completion—absolution. To be one of them._

_ Beth ran for hours upon hours, days upon days, rounded corner after corner in hopes to lose them. To no avail, they followed, always beckoning._

_ Her sanity was slipping. Everything around her didn't make sense. _

_ The last thing she remembered before slipping into this inferno was a man._

_ A gruff and rough looking man on the outside—she knew better. His loyalty knew no boundaries, as well as his heart. _

_ She remembered his arms embracing her, shielding her from evil. His lips—his soft lips pressed against hers in a bruising, desperate kiss. The look in his steel blue eyes was a fearful, yet determined one._

_ With him, she remembered feeling safe._

_ With him, she recalled his concern for her wellbeing._

_ She recalled his musk of pine, sunshine and sweat. She can hear his husky voice whispering in her ears, telling her to return to him. _

_ She yearned to be held by him, to be touched by his calloused hands. _

_But what was his name?_

_It started with the letter D, she knew that much. She remembered his features, his strengths and flaws, his voice and the emotions that would dance in his eyes._

_But what was his name? What was his name?_

-0-

Daryl speared in the final pillar to the blockade he built around the funeral home. He scanned the perimeter for the thirteenth time today, this time though, he was satisfied with his work. The funeral home was now surrounded by a barricade made of wooden spears dug into the ground at various angles. He built a wooden rail fence with a gate behind the trenched spears for extra protection.

He had to be extra cautious; he had to ensure the safety of one specific person sleeping within the house.

Three weeks.

It had been three weeks since Beth was bitten.

The first hour after she fainted in his arms after he had kissed her, he feared she had died and will be turning into a walker. Despite his better judgment, he carried her limp body up the stairs and tucked her in the bed she occupied earlier that day.

Then he tied her up. All four limbs: both arms and both legs, he tied with torn sheets in a way that walkers wouldn't know how to get out of—secured to the posts on the headboard and footboard of the bed. For the hour after he secured her, he was numb.

Didn't know what the hell to do, though he kept his knife with him the entire time. He did say he wasn't going to kill her—but if she turned, she was already dead.

If she turned, his Beth was long gone. No matter how much he despised the thought, he would have to make sure Walker Beth didn't hurt anyone. He would have to put a knife through her pretty head—she would've wanted it that way. She would tell him that she would rather die than to hurt anyone else. He would do that… for her. If she turned.

For the entire night of the day she was bit, he observed her with his knife drawn and ready in his hand and Dooley by his side. For some damned reason, the dog wouldn't leave her alone.

He would jump up onto the bed and lay his head on her chest; his head would rise and fall with every breath she took. He never made a peep and stayed that way until first daylight.

Dooley whimpered and whined until Daryl finally got up from his seat by the door to find the cause for the dog to whimper. Then he saw it—the angry, infected teeth marks in the skin of her forearm of her right arm. It was a single bite; with the same shape and edges as the one he saw when he bandaged her arm the day before.

The original bite was from Joe when she attacked him from behind—not a walker. He believed her on that. He took another look closer at the bite wound, took his thumb and pressed it against her flesh, hard. He remembered Beth whimpering in her unconscious state from the pain, which was a good sign. She wasn't dead. When fresh, red blood seeped from her wound, the pieces began clicking in place for him.

He remembered the bandage, the one he put on her, was dangling from the walker's mouth. There. That was it. Yes, there was no doubt she had been bit—but the bandage may have been her saving grace. Why else would the bandage be dangling from the walker's mouth, except for the fact that it bit down on it? There was blood from the sheer biting force of its teeth snapping onto her flesh and ripping the fresh scab and deepening the wound, drawing fresh blood. It had to be it.

It had to be.

It was a radical, damn near crazy thought, but maybe… just maybe, Beth might not turn after all.

At the time, three weeks ago, when he came to that realization, he questioned his own sanity. Maybe he couldn't cope with losing another person he grew to care about. Maybe he didn't want to be alone again. Whatever his damn case was, he was sure glad he didn't put an arrow through her head.

Because if he did, and came to this realization after the deed was done, he would regret it for the rest of his life. It would eat at him, knowing that he killed her without discerning proof that she will turn. Maybe the guilt would send him over the edge until he put a bullet through his own brain.

He was damn glad he didn't though.

Because now, Beth was still with him. Sleeping… comatose… but alive.

For the first week, he took care of her. He fed and cleaned her, always checked on that bite wound for infection or any sign that she would turn. She didn't, though she never opened her eyes or gave him any sign that she would wake up and smile at him with those beautiful lips of hers. He had cleaned the infection away in a way he knew best—skinning. As brutal and barbaric as it sounded, it was all he knew… he was no expert in medicine. What he did know was what he saw in those old movies he used to watch as a kid growing up. They sterilized their knives or needles with fire then carefully cut out the infected flesh.

Thankfully, he didn't have to go deep. Though he would've done it, taking out a chunk of her flesh if it meant that she would live as a human, not an undead. He didn't know how to stitch the edges together, so he left it—covered by a few layers of bandages and hoped for the best.

Into the second week, he spent most of his time gathering firewood, tree limbs for more spears and scouting the small town Beth mentioned after he checked the map.

And now, into the third week of Beth's coma, he had a stockpile of food that would last them throughout the winter. No matter how he looked at the shitty situation, no matter which angle or how long analyzed it… Beth saved him, and herself.

As much as he would hate to admit it, without the medicine Beth scavenged from the town, she would've died from fever and he… he would've died from trying to find a way to save her. She was his saving grace, in more ways than one.

He would be lying if he said it didn't feel wrong to kiss her. She was Hershel's baby girl—young and naïve to the ways of men. He knew though, whatever the hell feelings he had for her, he had to keep it tightly wrangled so he doesn't end up hurting her. But fuck, it was hard. Not a day went by that he didn't think about kissing her and having her in his arms. It was great, wonderful even… but it opened a new can of worms. Pandora's box, if you will.

If he had to protect her from himself, he would do so begrudgingly. She deserves more, deserves something better… someone other than him, even if it would drive him insane to see her in the arms of another man. No matter what he felt, how he felt, it would turn out for the better. For her. And damned be, he would be content knowing she was safe and happy, even if it was with someone else.

Daryl let out a sigh, beginning to feel agitated from where his thoughts led him. What's a better way to relieve stress than to plunge a knife into a corpse's head? After double checking his gear and weapons, he began scouting the surrounding perimeter of the house.

For the past three weeks, he killed walker after walker and noticed a disturbing change in a few of them. Sure, they seemed as if they were decaying as they should… but some of them… they looked like… aliens. Engorged necks, nearly wrinkle free skins but with sunken eyes and cheeks… fuck, if he didn't know any better, he would say they were mutating. Now that's a frightening thought.

The sun began to descend from its peak in the sky, casting an orange glow everywhere; daylight vanished quickly with the cooler weather. According to the watch Beth got, it was the Friday before Thanksgiving. It would be dark by the time he would return to Beth, he had ventured out further than expected this time. Securing the rabbit he hunted along the way, he began his trip home.

It didn't take long for him to reach the familiar railroad tracks. He had been monitoring the tracks for a while now, noting down any major or minor movements from walkers or humans. He usually found nothing… until now.

The silver light flickering between the wood and gravel of the track caught his attention.

"What the hell?" He made his way over to the source. Picking it up, he examined it – adrenaline began pumping through him almost immediately. Candy wrapper, fresh. No dust, dirt or smudges on the wrapping. Humans. Too close for damn comfort. From where he stood, it would only take two hours to reach the funeral home. It was too damn risky to not find out who and how many were around the area.

Darkness engulfed the sky by the time he saw any sign of life… or the undead. He saw shadows moving around the track, a good distance away. Using the forest tree line as cover, he inched closer, cautiously.

Suddenly, chaos erupted. Shouts and gunfire echoed in the night as more shadows descended upon the first set.

Rick.

His one true friend in all this madness. He couldn't let him die. Without hesitation, Daryl leaped into action, running full speed into the chaos. Then he saw them… Rick, Michonne, Carl and Joe and his men. They had his family pinned down, Daryl panicked.

"Joe," Daryl barked out admist the scene. Joe had Rick pinned with gunpoint. "Joe, these people are my friends. They're good people."

"Well lookie here. Long time no see, stranger. When I'm through with them, you're next and, how are these assholes good people, when they killed one of mine, huh Daryl?" Joe had a maniac expression in his eyes, hell-bent on drawing blood.

"No, no. They are good people, take me instead. Don't hurt them," Daryl inched closer, ready to strike at the opportunity. He wasn't lying about giving himself up for the safety of Rick, Carl and Michionne. Hell, he wasn't going to go down without a damned fight though.

"Don't be lying to me, boy. You know I hate liars," Joe nodded at his men, those of which descended on him rapidly, laying blow after blow against his back and abdomen. He could feel his stitches tugging at his skin. Damn, just when they were almost all healed.

"First we're going to beat Daryl to death. Then we'll have the girl. Then the boy. Then, I'll shoot you. And then we'll be square," Joe taunted at Rick.

Fuck of he knew what happened next. Everything around him blurred into chaos when he heard Joe's promise of raping a woman and child. Like hell he'll let that happen. The odds quickly turned against Joe and his men, they were quickly dispatched, one by one.

Daryl looked over enough to see Rick ripping out Joe's throat with his teeth, ending that poor, miserable, sorry excuse of a man's life. Then he turned his attention to the guy that pinned Carl down and plunged his blade into him without another word.

Chaos died on the tracks as soon as the marauders were dead. Rightfully so. Daryl noticed though, these men were not the same men who attempted to save him and Beth. He briefly wondered if they died or just left the crazed-assed man.

Battered and bruised, he sank down onto the gravel, catching his breath. He casted a glance over Michonne comforting the distraught Carl, then at Rick who rested with his back against a nearby truck. This was one hell of a night. They must've sat in silence for almost an hour. The moon was high up in the sky, signaling the time near midnight.

Grabbing his water bottle and rag from his backpack, Daryl cleaned his face off before heading over to the silent Rick and offering the cloth to him.

"Hey stranger," Rick offered him an emotionless smile before accepting the rag.

"Hey." Damn, his voice sounded rustier than normal. Thinking about it, he hadn't been using it much since Beth became comatose.

"How did you find us?"

"Followed the tracks, found the candy wrapper… then saw you guys. You okay?"

Rick nodded, "I don't know, Daryl. I don't know." Agitation, regret and helplessness was written all over his face.

"It wasn't your fault man… it had to be done to keep your boy safe. I would've done the same," Daryl paused for a second before a mirthless smirk appeared on his face. "I did the same thing."

Rick looked at him, questions forming in his eyes.

Without waiting for him to ask, Daryl spoke. "I was with these guys… for a short while. Beth… she was kidnapped and I trailed her. They found me and well. It was a join them or die situation. The leader spewed shit about rules and not lying. Fuck, I thought they might be good people. I was wrong. Way the fuck wrong."

"You were with Beth? Kidnapped?"

"Yeah, got out with her. Thought we found a safe place but got overrun. Then she got kidnapped by some psychopathic priest. She was messed up in the head when I found her again," unknowingly, a fond smile donned his face. "She almost died, but she made it through. But fuck… I should've took her and left the moment I found her. That group… those fuckers. It wasn't safe with them. I was so fucking stupid to even think otherwise."

Rick shifted on the ground, alert to the new information he was hearing. Concern was written over his face over the young woman who once took care of his Judith. "What happened?"

"One of them fuckers was on her when we were sleeping. Faggot tried to rape her. He would've done it too if…" Daryl chewed on his thumbnail aggressively, getting worked up at recalling the memories. "I saw red. I fucking pummeled his head until there was nothing left."

"It ain't your fault Daryl, it needed to be done. No matter what shit happens, I know for a damn fact that you're a good person. A good person," Rick looked down at the rag in his hands for a brief moment. "You're my brother Daryl. No matter what this road takes us, I got your back."

Daryl looked up, catching Rick's eyes. Rick was the second person to call him a good person… the first… Beth, his Beth. "Thanks man," he nodded, looking away. The trust that Rick had in him was overwhelming, humbling even.

"So, where is she now?"

Daryl paused for a long moment, debating on how to answer. He trusted Rick, but damn, he would be lying if he said he wasn't afraid Rick would kill Beth because of what had happened. "Can you trust me?"

"What kind of question is that?" Rick laughed it off; his mood finally lightened a smidge.

"She's at the funeral home, the camp. The place is secured now… but she's sick man. I don't know how long it's going to go for either," he could hear his own voice betray his stoic face. It took him a second to register the fear in his voice, the tears that almost began to blur his vision.

"Is she going to be okay?"

"Can I trust you?" Daryl turned his face and captured Rick's eyes with his own piercing gaze. He saw the wheels turning in his head, things clicking into place. Rick was not a stupid man.

"She bit?"

Daryl had to smirk on that one, but nodded. "Yeah. But she's alive. Walker bit her bandage on her arm, tore it right off with some skin. Been cleaning it since. She's been sleeping since."

"For how long?"

He heard the apprehension in Rick's voice and briefly wondered if telling Rick all this information was a good thing. "Three weeks. She's been sleeping for three damn weeks. Didn't wake up once," it alarmed him to hear the weariness of his voice. "She didn't turn though. Just… sleeping."

A long silence descended upon them. Neither men spoke a word. Daryl would never forgive himself if Rick killed Beth despite him telling him that she did not turn. Then again, Rick would never betray his trust just as he wouldn't betray Rick's. He called him his brother. Not friend. Brother. There was no reason not to trust Rick. Sure, they've all made some bad decisions… but Rick wouldn't kill an innocent girl. He just wouldn't. There was trust between the two of them, neither one will break it.

Finally gathering his thoughts, Daryl spoke. "Can you walk a few hours?"

Rick nodded, "Yeah, why man?"

"'Cus I'm taking the three of you to the camp, the house. Home."

_Home to Beth. _

/

**J.R.-** What will Rick do? Do you guys trust him?

Okay, sorry for the late update. School started and it's a mess down here in my end.

I hope this makes up for the last chapter and it answers a lot of questions and concerns. If not, please feel free to message me and I'll be more than happy to answer!

Yay for Season 5! This story will follow the season 5 plot line to some extent. This story is a long, long, long one!

_Thanks for being so patient and reading this story. Please continue to show support and encouragement by leaving me a message or a review!_


	15. Back to Square One

**** HAPPY Chapter 15 and 50,000 WORDS! **  
_E_**_xtra-long chapter today, roughly over 4000. Does that mean I get extra reviews? :P Purty Please?  
Anyway, thanks for the support everyone! I appreciate all the reviews and feedback I get! Thank you so much for everyone's kind words and support!_

_Enjoy!_

**Take Me as I Am**  
Chapter 15_  
[Back to Square One]_

Michonne and Carl were shocked to see him. Well, Carl was. Michonne… not so much. Maybe she knew he could take care of his own ass. What she didn't know, and what Daryl wasn't going to disclose was that Beth was in a coma. Knowing how badass this woman can be only serves to prove that she could be a danger to Beth if she doesn't realize that Beth isn't going to turn into a walker. You know, having been bit and all.

Despite his greatest relief, he thought it was odd that Beth _didn't_ turn into a walker, even if the undead's blood or saliva infecting her arm. That _is_ why her arm looked infected and sore, right? He was no expert in medicine, but damn… if Beth survives this and comes out of her coma, doesn't it mean she has some kind of defense against this damn virus or whatever the fuck is making them corpses rise?

"Shit," Daryl muttered under his breath, a dawn of new worries washed over him. People will want to hunt her down… wouldn't they? To find a cure.

In the process, they might even kill her… Hell be damned, he wasn't going to let that shit happen to her. No, he was going to protect her. No one else can know about her situation, no one but him, her and Rick. Rick won't bring harm to Hershel's youngest, there's no way.

"You okay?" Rick questioned as the group of four walked towards the funeral home.

Daryl nodded as nonchalantly as possible, brushing Rick's concern as if nothing. "Yeah… yeah. Why?" He knew he could trust Rick, but just… how much when it comes to Beth's safety?

Rick shrugged, "You look like you're banging your head against a rock there with all your thinking. Something bothering you?"

"Nah, just _stuff_. Nothing serious or nothin'," Daryl readjusted his crossbow over his shoulder before taking in their current location.

"Daryl, how much longer are we going to need to travel?" Michonne's voice was firm, but not harsh.

Daryl turned around, ready to give her crap about not being able to take a few hours of walking until he noticed in the dark, her deep brown eyes darting between him and Carl. An intentional gesture. He looked over Carl, his eyes were dark—not of the color, but as if something dark and low-spirited enveloped his growing body.

Carl was… not Carl.

The mere thought of Carl being so gravely affected stunned him to a short moment of silence. If those damn marauders weren't dead, he'd hunt them down just to wring their necks with his bare hands for hurting Carl and Michonne in that way. Certainly, they never did get the chance to make true of their promise, but damned be… that threat was just as bad as the action itself.

"Daryl?" Rick drew him out of his thoughts.

"Not far, about ten minute walk from here if we speed it up," Daryl replied, swiftly turning on his heels. He was unable to stare at Carl's injured soul any longer.

What the fuck is with this world? The world goes to Hell and everyone loses their morals. Damn, yeah he was no saint. Though it would be a damn fucking, icy cold day in Hell before he would lay a hand on a woman and child like that. His life, his world before walkers were filled with Merle, riding, endless destinations and drunken bars—never once did he force a woman to do what she didn't want to do. They were all willing, and that was fine by him.

Something about the apocalypse drawing the worse out of people, and shit—it should be bringing the best out of men. You would think mankind would band together and try to save as many people as possible—like what Rick did. Because of some people's greed and anger… it wouldn't be possible to save everyone. Not anymore.

"Whoa… you did this?" Carl jogged in front of them to examine Daryl's handiwork of the speared fence surrounding the funeral home.

"You knew Morgan?" Rick's voice chipped in, and followed his son, checking the sturdiness of the spears.

"Who?" Who the hell is Morgan? "Naw, basic trapping skills I learned from a long time ago. Sturdy, should keep us safe for now. Come on," he nodded his head at a gap between the wooden spears that was barred with a horizontal piece of wood. He made short work of moving it aside to let Rick, Carl and Michonne through before barring the gap once more.

"There shouldn't be any walkers in here, but be on your guard, just in case," Daryl suggested and stepped through the front door of the funeral home, then lit a propane lantern he hung on the wall. He found at one of the hunting shops in a town nearby on one of his material runs.

The soft white light illuminated the foyer, it wasn't much but it was clean. He had cleaned up the dismembered walkers from the basement and wiped off all the blood. He didn't want to leave this place dirty if the owner came home eventually. Beth mentioned something about the owner… he couldn't remember much now. It had been three long weeks since she was able to speak to him.

"Kitchen's right here," he gestured to his left, "spare bedroom upstairs… coffin room, storage." He was about to lead the three into the kitchen until a loud _thud _echoed from upstairs, then came Dooley's incisive barking.

Beth.

"BETH!" Daryl shoved past Rick and Michonne and raced up the stairs. He heard their footsteps hot on his heels, but he didn't care. Something was wrong.

There would be no reason for Dooley to be barking like he was. Daryl feared the worse—Beth finally turning into a walker.

Daryl propelled the chair that prevented the door from opening or closing, just in case if walkers did manage to break through the front door. Barging into the dark room without any concern for his own safety, he scanned the bed for Beth.

Empty.

His heart hammered in his chest, his ears throbbed from the pressure of his blood. He took his eyes off of the bed for the briefest of seconds to scan the windows, until a body from inside the room, launched at him.

"Daryl!" Rick called out behind him, carrying the gas lantern up the stairs with him.

Daryl fought with the creature, not knowing if it was walker Beth or something else. Whoever, whatever it was, it was weak. He tossed the assaulter over to the side, making it fall onto the wooden floor, kneeling. One hand gripped at its neck, his other hand held onto a wrist that had a bloodied knife on it.

"The hell?" The blade… the hand. It was familiar. Then, the throbbing pain of a fresh wound made itself known on his left bicep. "You fucking cut me?" he said, incredulously.

"Let go of me! What did you do with my Daddy?! Shawn! Maggie! Mama!"

Beth.

His assaulter is Beth… but Beth was different… changed.

She struggled against his hold on her, trashing with her knife raised and ready to attack again.

"Damn it, Beth! It's me! Put the fucking knife down!" Daryl, unwilling to pin her down like a criminal any longer, released his grip and jumped back, leaving her breathless on the floor.

"Who… who," she pulled the nightgown she wore closer to her chest, fearing for her life. "Who are you? What are you doing in my house?" she asked, unshed tears filled her eyes, her knife pointed at him, Rick and Michonne.

-0-

She woke up to feeling so empty… so cold, alone and in throbbing pain. Then a strange white dog jumped on top of her, scaring her senseless before she shoved it off of her and onto the floor.

What was this dog doing in her room? Did her family get a new pet?

Then came the banging, the stomping… and the strange men and woman in the doorway.

Now, she clutched onto her knife for dear life, confused and frightened beyond belief. "Where's my dad?"

Daddy will know what to do with these people.

The three strange people looked at her, shock written all over their faces. Why were they so surprised? And blood… they had blood all over them. Murders.

"You better leave now or I'll call the sheriff! My daddy's good friends with him," she tried to make her voice brave, firm and unafraid, but how wrong she was. She sounded as threatening as a week old kitten.

"Beth… honey," the man with the lantern stepped past the solemn looking man with the long chestnut brown hair. "Look, I'm going to hold my hand up and show you I ain't going to hurt you. We're not gonna hurt you. Okay? We're friends with your daddy too."

"I—I don't believe you! You have blood all over you, like some sick psychopathic serial killers… you better leave, now!" Beth took steps behind her until her bottom fell against the top of the mattress. She spotted the closed window from the corner of her eyes.

If they weren't going to leave, she wasn't going to stay here and let them have their way with her. She'll run to her neighbor's and get help. Yeah, that's a good idea.

"We're not going to hurt you, Beth. You're safe here," the man took another step towards her.

Beth felt her blood run cold. The sudden image of an unrecognizable man tearing at her clothes in the dark ran through her eyes. Her heart sped up as the few seconds of whatever it was danced before her eyes. "No, no! Stay away from me!" She jumped over to the other edge of the bed and threw open the window.

"Beth, NO!"

All three of them ran towards her, she panicked. She used the windowsill as her lever and pushed herself off and tucked her body into a roll. In a mind numbing second, she felt her body crush against the cold, dead plant matter covered ground. Her vision went black, a shrill ring echoed through her ears as she tried to breathe through her mouth.

She didn't expect that room to be on the second level. She didn't know what she expected. She just knew that those people… with the blood… they were dangerous. The room wasn't hers. The scene that played through her head before she jumped, she thought they kept her hostage for that purpose.

Where was daddy?

"Daddy," she whispered hoarsely, her body still numb from the fall. She had to get help. There was no telling what those strangers did to her family. She must get up. Now. She gasped at the pain that numbed all her limbs when she tried to push herself up. Gripping a handful of leaves and dirt in both hands, she pulled her knees towards her stomach. The simple action along rendered her weak and breathless.

"Beth!" She heard them call out for her from around the building.

How did they even know her name? Did she tell them… or was it possible they really knew her daddy?

No. Her daddy wouldn't be friends with psychopaths. No way. For all she knew, the blood on them could be from her family. She had to leave. Now.

Beth pulled herself onto her feet despite the gripping pain in her arms and legs. Step by step, she limped towards the dark forest; she had to find someone to get help.

Just a few steps later, Beth saw a shadow in front of her. A woman's figure. Help.

"Help! Help me please! I, I think I've been kidnapped! Ma'am, help me please!" Beth limped after the figure as quickly as she could.

Not too far behind her, she could her them shouting for her to stay where she is. Why? So they can kidnap her again? Not likely.

"Ma'am! Help me!" she screamed at the shadow figure. Beth let out a relieved laugh when the figure stopped, turned and started to saunter towards her. "Do you have a cellphone on you? I need to call the Sheriff!"

Beth stopped walking, out of breath and exhausted. Her gaze never left the woman who walked towards her. It was weird to her… the woman looked as if she was limping too.

"Are you hurt ma'am?" She called out to her. No answer and still she continued to walk towards her. Second instinct began to kick in when Beth felt her knees grow shaky as adrenaline pumped through her. Something told her to run.

Something wasn't right.

"Hello?" Beth called again, her voice shaky and uncertain. She took a weary step towards the sauntering female, who was only two yards from her. Under the canopy of the trees, not much moonlight was able to penetrate through.

As the figure got closer, Beth heard an animalistic growl around her.

"What… what is that? Hello?" She called out again, her head inclined forward as the woman got closer. A stream of moonlight illuminated the top of the woman's head and her face.

Beth screamed.

"Oh my god!" Beth stumbled back out of sheer terror.

The flesh on the woman's skin had been decayed off, with exposed, black teeth from the lack of flesh covering it. The animalistic sound was coming from her… it. It snarled at Beth as it got closer. Beth scooted back on her legs and hands, frozen to the ground but her body told her to run.

"_Beth!_" The three were only seconds away from reaching her. Still, Beth didn't know what to do but to stare at the approaching creature with frozen fear.

"Get… get away from me!" She shouted at the corpse like creature, pushing herself backwards, not caring the twigs and branches on the ground scraped at her soft skin. She just wanted to get away from this… this thing.

The creature snarled at her in response, and when it finally got close, it toppled over her, snapping its rotting teeth at her neck.

Beth shrieked and attempted to shove it off of her with her hands gripping at its shoulders. The sensation was nauseating. The flesh fell off as she pushed at it, making it impossible for her to hold back the creature.

"Oh my god! Someone help me!" she cried in desperation.

"_Beth!"_

She didn't know who helped her, nor did she really care at this point, the corpse was thrown off her and onto her left side. She had only but a second to see one of the men from before plunge a knife through the head of the creature that attacked her.

She began hyperventilating, too stunned to even scream as black blood oozed out of the creature's head. Her lip trembled, her body shivered in both fear and the cold.

"Incoming," the dark female with a long sword spoke up. "We better get in the house Daryl."

Daryl, the solemn looking man with the long chestnut colored hair, the one who apparently plunged the knife through that thing's head, picked her in his arms and ran towards the house without hesitation.

She didn't know what was happening… she was unable to refuse, unable to push herself out of his arms. The last thing she remembered, before darkness swallowed her, was looking over his broad shoulder as more figures from the forest heading towards their way.

-0-

She heard voices whispering around her and drew her out of her restless slumber

"How much do you think she remembers?" she heard the woman say.

"Considering how she thinks mama's still alive… probably back before we left the farm."

Beth's eyes snapped open.

"What did you say?" she whispered harshly, her eyes focused on the man who previously held the lantern.

They looked at her, stunned for the second time that night. Or, it must be the same night considering they were in the same clothes and it was still dark out.

"What did you say?" she asked again, it was almost mind numbing that they thought her mama was dead. "My mama's not dead. We were baking cookies just yesterday. Shawn, Maggie, Daddy and Jimmy… they all loved my cookies."

The grim looks on their faces made her heart race in panic. What was going on? Who were they? Where is her family?

"Where is my family? What did you do with them?" She demanded hotly, pulling herself up into a seated position. "Tell me or I'm gonna call the Sheriff!"

"Honey, I am a Sheriff. Rick Grimes," the man, standing next to the woman spoke up. "Now I know there's a lot running through your head right now, but we need you to remain calm. We can't have you alerting the walkers towards us again."

"Walkers? What are you talking about?" A body wracking chill shook her body as she recalled the decayed face of the creature that attacked her. Walker. That must be what they're talking about.

"Yeah, we call them walkers, but they're like zombies… you know, like from the movies," a young teenage spoke up from the other corner of the room. She hadn't noticed him before. "What year is this?"

"2010… Spring… of course… what kind of question is that?"

She saw the man who saved her, Daryl, chew at his bottom lip with his arms tucked under one another with a grim expression in his steel blue eyes. There was something about him that was so familiar, she wondered what it was. As if he knew she was thinking of him, his eyes connected with hers—her heart fluttered in her chest.

There was something strange about the flutter in her chest when he looked at her… it wasn't of fear. It could be anything, though fear… she knew for sure it was not.

"It ain't 2010 no more," he muttered under his breath, she heard it though.

She looked up at him, confused. "How… how is it 2012? That means I would've graduated already… I… was in class yesterday…"

"You better fucking believe it, girl. Go look in the mirror and see if that's the same you that went to bed all happy last night. There ain't no more schools. No more baking. No more parties for you young folks to run around doing crazy shit while shit faced drunk. The world ended, Beth," Daryl's demeanor changed. Fury raged in his eyes as he scowled and ranted on. "This world ain't what it used to be no more. Those things you saw out there—they'll kill you, bite your head off without a fucking moment of hesitation. Why? Fuck if we know! That 'woman' you were asking for help from, that's a fucking walker. They don't think. They don't speak. They don't do nothing but chase whoever the hell is surviving this shit and tear the bloody flesh off.

And your family? Your Daddy? They're all gone. Dead as a fucking door nail. Why? They were fucking good people and they died under the hands of psychopathic assholes that wants to control the fucking end of the world," his chest was heaving by the time he stopped. His eyes continued to rage fire within; it didn't seem as if he was done.

"That's enough Daryl," Rick, the so called sheriff spoke.

She didn't care though. The two men argued with each other—she didn't register any of their words after Daryl's rant. Dead. Could he be really telling the truth? Daddy… Mama… Shawn… Maggie… were they all really gone?

Her eyes casted down to her right forearm—a dirty bandage covered her soft flesh. A dull ache throbbed beneath it. With her fingers shaking, body trembling, she unwrapped the first layer, then exposed the clean white layers underneath. Slowly, her skin was revealed to her.

A large fresh blood scab, the size of a golfball marred her skin. She choked back a sob, confused. Tears splattered over her forearm as she was no longer able hold back. This was not here yesterday. She didn't get hurt yesterday.

She baked… then went straight to bed… unharmed. And yet… yet, this wound of hers… it was not fresh. It had to be at least a week or two old. And her clothes, she went to bed in a tank top and her favorite cotton pajama bottoms—not this oversized nightgown that covered her from neck to toe.

Numbly, she pushed herself off of the bed and limped across the unfamiliar room, to the unfamiliar vanity. In the dimly lit room, she stared at her reflection.

Blond hair frayed about untied, dark hues surrounded her blue eyes, her face—it looked worn… tired… older. She swallowed the thick lump in her throat, but it remained there still, unmoving. Who was this person that was staring right back at her in the mirror?

It wasn't the 16 year old Beth that she thought she was yesterday.

Who was she? Where is she? Most importantly… just exactly how much did she forget?

"You should get some rest," the woman suggested gently.

Beth stared at the reflection of the woman in the mirror. She had dark creamy skin with large dark eyes that bore right into her soul. She wasn't smiling, but she didn't sound hostile either.

She noticed then, that the men had left the room. It was just this strange woman and her… alone. There was something about her that was strangely familiar as well. Like, some part of her knew that this woman won't hurt her.

"Where am I?"

"This is 2012… in five days, it'll be Thanksgiving."

2 years—over 2 years of her life she had forgotten. A storm raged underneath, but her reflection showed only her calm almost stoic face. She wasn't always like this… Mama always said '_don't let your emotions rule your actions, baby._' Mama would scold her with that when she threw a fit about something. Come to think of it, she was the baby of the family, always got what she wanted. And now… what about now?

In the two years that she had forgotten, could she have actually managed to grow up and control her emotions?

"I know it's a lot to handle right now, Beth. I know you don't remember me… you're not at your family farm anymore. My name's Michonne and I've been with the group for a while now… these guys… they're good people, and so are you."

Beth stared at Michonne's reflection in the mirror—she couldn't find the means to respond.

With a teary, bitter laugh Beth slumped onto the floor. Heaving sobs racked her fragile frame as the weight of the world had suddenly been dropped onto her shoulders. There was so much gone—so much lost—so much she didn't remember.

Everything around her didn't make sense. She remembered going to bed last night after kissing her family good night and now… Daryl said they were dead. Gone.

She felt Michonne's arms wrap around her shoulders in a comforting embrace, then eased her head onto the older woman's lap. Such a simple gesture only made Beth cry harder. Her mama had done this for her countless times when she cried. Her mama… gone… with the rest of her family.

Never had she felt so cold and empty… so alone. Nothing made sense. She didn't want to believe any of whatever they told her. If she wanted to live… no… she must live.

Taking the easy way out… that's not what her daddy taught her. If he is truly dead… she must go on. For him, for Shawn, Maggie and Mama.

/

**JR-** Wow 10 pages in Word. I'm happy! Beth loses her memory I know. Sucks. I had to show her character development somehow!

Daryl freaked out on her… Hmm… I wonder why?

And yes, I do promise this won't be permanent. Oops I mean, I don't not promise this won't be permanent..? Lol.

_Thanks for reading everyone! Please review if you get the chance! _


	16. Twilight Sky

**Warning: Daryl rage.**

**Take Me as I Am**  
Chapter 16_  
[Twilight Sky]_

It wasn't as if he wanted to stay away from her. But damn, every time he looked at her, he felt _something_… something that shouldn't be felt towards a young woman like her—especially since she woke up thinking she was 16 again.

The morning after he scorned her, he wanted nothing more than to apologize for being a complete asshole. What he said the night before was unnecessarily cruel. That morning, she walked right past him with her head casted so far down he thought her head might just fall off her neck. That same day, he tried multiple times just to speak to her. But every damn time he tried to speak to her alone, Michonne would pull her to do something else or Rick would ask him to help him with something.

Now, the fourth day after she woke up with a coma, she has yet to speak to him and he—he has yet to apologize.

And fuck, it was tearing him up inside. He knew he shouldn't let it bother him… shouldn't let her affect him this way. It was for the best this way—that she forgot. Maybe she'll find some dumbass teenage boy to spend the rest of her life with.

Damn, the image of her smiling in pure bliss at another man made his heart clenched painfully tight in his chest. He hated the thought but there was nothing he could do about it. Losing her memory was probably the best thing that could've happened to her. She wouldn't have to remember the time that asshole tried to rape her, or the psychotic priest fucking with her head… or her witnessing the decapitation of her daddy. Or the time she almost made him put an arrow in her head because she was bit. She doesn't remember any of that now… it was for the better… even if she didn't remember him.

He'll remember her though, quite possibly for the rest of his life. In the three weeks he took care of her while she was in a coma, he came to realize that this fair-haired accident on legs somehow buried her way in his tightly enclosed heart. He didn't know when it happened or how… but damned be, he rather see her with someone else than for her to end up dead with him.

Yeah, her losing her memory … it was a good thing. Right?

With a defeated sigh, Daryl closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose with calloused fingers. He couldn't' think straight anymore. Anytime he had a moment's freedom to think of whatever the hell he wanted, he thought of her and her damn smile. Sometimes when he was out with Rick doing a perimeter patrol, he would see her back running towards the opposite direction, away from him.

Even Carl asked him if he was alright this morning. Good god, he must be one wrecked son of a bitch if a fourteen year old was questioning his sanity.

"Daryl?"

Daryl ignored the soft voice, believing it was another figment of his imagination.

"Daryl," a hand pressed softly against his shoulder.

He jumped at the contact, shocked that she was even speaking to him—alone too. "What?" he growled, then reflexively bit his cheek when he realized how harsh his tone was.

She didn't flinch at his tone; in fact she gave him a small smile.

"Wha'yra smiling about?" He tried his damned best to scowl at her. The truth was though; he felt as if the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders just from that sweet smile she gave him.

"I've been meaning to ask you something for a while now… I just don't know how to ask it…." She looked away then, abashed.

Daryl looked at her and stilled. He wasn't sure what brought this on. For the past four days, she had been avoiding him like the plague and he, well he hardly had spare time to go look for her. Why was she speaking to him now?

After the minutes of silence, Beth finally spoke up. "I've been meaning to ask you about… us."

"Us?" he croaked out, taken back at her forwardness. What the hell?

"Yeah. I don't know what it is… I just—I just know there's something between us," she gestured her hand back and forth between them.

Daryl had to scoff at her comment. She had no idea what kind of lonely hell he went through when she fell into the coma. God, as much as he wanted to say this woman had no effect on him, he would be lying. When she was comatose, the only thing that kept him sane and moving on was the sheer fact that her life depended on him. Now that she had awakened, this was the first time they had spoken since the night he gripped at her.

And she wants to say there was something between them based on the fact that they had been avoiding each other? _As if_, Daryl scoffed. "There ain't no _us_."

"I know there is!" She hissed hotly back at him, her hands propped up against her hips. The sun was beginning to set, casting a fiery orange glow atop her mass of blonde hair. She had cleaned up—wearing some fresh clothes that Rick and he were able to scavenge in the nearby town, her wavy blond hair clean and untangled. She no longer looked sickly and was eating well. They weren't short on food, everyone managed to sneak extra food and snacks to her in efforts to make her gain some weight. And damned be, he noticed the soft curves on her body. She looks… beautiful.

"Quite staring," her eyes casted down towards her toes when she caught him redhanded.

He cleared his throat and turned his gaze back to the sunset, he felt warm and unsteady despite the chilly autumn breeze sweeping through the porch of the funeral home.

"What do you want?" he asked after a few more minutes had past. He didn't know why but this little lady confused the bejesus out of him. One moment he wanted to scoop her up in his arms, the next thing he knew he wanted to be as far away from her as physically possible.

"I don't know," she shrugged. "I just wanted to talk to you… I haven't done that yet."

"Yeah no shit," he muttered under his breath. "Been avoiding me like I got some kind of disease or something."

"I didn't mean for it to be that way… I just needed time to think…"

"Yeah? 'Bout what?"

"Everything… walkers… this funeral home… Rick and Carl… Lori and Judith…" her voice trailed off.

Daryl snapped his head to face her, "What? You just said Lori and Judith… Your memory's back?" He felt his heart skip a beat at the realization. Could it be possible that Beth knew who he was now? A part of him hated that she might remember all the shit she had to go through the past several months, but… it would mean she remembered him as well. It was a guilty pleasure for him to want her to remember their time together. He didn't realize how badly he wanted it until now.

She gave him a sheepish smile and fidgeted under his intense gaze. "Sort of…"

"Sort of?" he repeated, confused.

"Bits and pieces of my memories started to come back. That first night I can remember the farm… Rick and his group coming in. Maggie and Glenn… the farm being overrun. Then yesterday morning, I remember the prison… Judith being born and Lori dying… It's all so confusing and I'm trying to sort everything but it's so hard," her voice cracked, he could hear the tears in her voice.

Of everything, she hadn't mentioned anything about remembering him. Is that why she wanted to talk to him? That she remembered everyone… but him? "What about me?" his voice was low, his breath caught in his throat, almost not wanting to hear her answer.

When she didn't answer him, he repeated his question, his voice strained. "What about me, Beth?" He almost sounded desperate despite his utmost best to try and sound uninterested and aloof.

"That's the thing… I… I can't remember you at all."

In a rush of anger, Daryl hissed out a curse and punched the wooden support pillar of the porch before gripping the fence until his knuckles turned white. "How is it that you remember the others, and nothing about me?" The memories of her smiling at him, telling him she trusted him… her sleeping in his arms. It was near and dear to him, it was something he wouldn't want to forget and yet—she forgot him so easily. He didn't want to be a bitch, but damn, did that hurt.

"Calm down, Daryl! It's not like I wanted to forget you… I just… I can't remember what happened between us," she placed a hand on his arm, in hopes of getting his attention.

He yanked his arm out of her reach, "There ain't nothing between us! 'specially since you ain't remembering nothing 'bout me."

"Don't lie to me Daryl! I know there's something. I can—_feel_ it," she reached over to grab at him again. He pulled his arm away from her reach.

"Don't. Don't touch me. Best if you go on back in the house," Daryl brushed past her coldly, anger barely contained. His heavy footsteps clattered loudly against the wooden stairs of the patio. Seconds later, he reached the barred makeshift gate of the speared fence.

How is it that whenever it came to this little lady, he was on a never-ending rollercoaster ride?

"Just what aren't you telling me, Daryl?!" she called after him. "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you sooner. I wasn't sure what to think! Don't leave like this." This time, he felt her arms slip around his waist, preventing him from going any further. A part of him wondered if he was dreaming—it all felt surreal. It had been days since she spoke to him and yet here she was, demanding to know what went on between them.

What _did _go on between them?

"Please… I'm so confused. I'm trying my damn best to figure everything out but nothing about you makes sense."

He felt her warm, trembling body pressed against his back. He heard her soft crying, felt her hot breath heating up the sleeve of his shirt. He was aware of every breath she took, every move she made—down to the soft fluttering of her eyelashes. It all the more felt wrong.

There was nothing between them—not officially. Sure, he had kissed her once out of desperation… sure he let her sleep in his arms in more than one occasion... and yes, he confided in her more than he would ever admit in the months that came to past. And yet, he hadn't confessed—neither did she. Why?

Because there was nothing to confess—nothing was going on between them. At least, that's what he's going to tell himself and her. Maybe he was right; maybe it was best if she forgot him completely. For God's sake he was probably out and running around in the woods on his own by the time she was born—he was too old for her. Too old, too rough, too damaged.

He then began thinking about the dreaded _what if_'s. What if he was just a few years older than her? What if she was closer to his age? What if they met before the world went to hell? What if… what if…

The more he questioned about Beth's _us_, the angrier he got. Truth be told, even though they were out running for their lives, being with her—it gave him something to look forward to. And now, everything between them, if they did have anything, was gone. Gone with her memories. Just gone.

"You're wrong. You're nothing but a kid. There ain't nothing between us, and you best take my word for it," Daryl nearly growled out, his jaw clenched so tightly, the muscles began to twitch. He pried apart her arms from his body and moved to raise the bar that secured the makeshift gate.

He needed to get away from her before he did something he would regret. A part of him had been pacified thinking she forgot everyone… but knowing that she remembered everyone else but him. It stung. It made him feel something more than he could understand. He wasn't sure how to react. All he knew was that it was best for her to stay away from him.

"I am not a kid anymore! Daryl Dixon, you better stop throwing a tantrum and talk to me!" she all but screamed at him, pulling at his arms to have him face her. "I deserve more than this!"

Something in him snapped. With a swift turn on his heels, he glared at her with livid blue eyes and began speaking to the suddenly shocked Beth before he could register what he was truly saying.

"You know what, Beth? You're right. You ain't a kid no more, so I ain't gonna speak to you like one. You want to know what happened between us? You want the goddamn truth? The past several months I had to drag your ass around, keeping your ass and mine alive. You're a fucking accident on legs. Something's always wrong with you. You wanted a fucking drink of alcohol so you snuck off on y our own. You wanted to learn how to track so I fucking taught you and you got your smart ass hurt with a fucking bear trap in on the ground, right in front of you. All you had to do was fucking look down!

Then you had to go and tell me I'm a fucking good person. I ain't no saint, but you had me going—thinking I might actually be good for you. But fuck, Beth! Then you had to go and be fucking kidnapped by some psychopathic priest. It took me days to fucking find you. Your dumb ass was about to be eaten by them fucking walkers in that damn tunnel. I fucking thought you were gone. I got you out of there only to find you choking in your sleep. How the fuck does that happen?! No, you didn't die. You didn't die but almost had your ass raped by one of the faggots in the group we were traveling with. What the hell were you thinking going out in the middle of the night like that? 'specially since I wasn't with you. What if I wasn't there to help you when I did, huh?

Jesus Christ, Beth! When we finally came back to this place, you went off on your own to find medicine for me. Because of me, you got bit by the fucking walker when that damn dog upstairs came back. You kept telling me to shoot you in the head. How the fuck can you ask me to do something like that? After all the shit we've gone through together, you fucking asked me to kill you. I couldn't do it, damn it. As much as I knew it was against all logic, I tied your ass upstairs on that bed and looked after you for weeks. Three weeks. You were in a fucking coma for three weeks before you woke up four days ago and jumped out of the fucking two story window. Then you almost had your ass bit again by another fucking walker.

And you know what Beth? All this time I was hoping you would wake up and everything would be just like before. I'm the fucking 'tard for thinking that way. 'Cus you don't even fucking remember me. And that's fucking tearing me up inside because you remember everyone else but me. How the fuck does that happen! What part of me did you want to forget so much? Was it 'cus I kissed you before you went into the coma? Was I that damn repulsive to you? You know what; I ain't a fucking good person. Good in me, it doesn't exist. I'm just a fucking asshole that wants a piece of ass!"

Blinded in his rage, he reached in and grabbed a handful of her hair at the back of her head and pulled her towards him. He slammed his mouth against hers, so hard that their teeth clashed against each other's. He felt the bruising pain of his forceful kiss upon her lips.

Finally, his rage settled when he tasted the coppery taste of blood on his lips. Guilt immediately washed over him and he released her, taking a shaky step back. He clamped his eyes shut, and his hands clenched into tight fists; a near unbearable ache began to build in his chest as he recalled every word he screamed at her. Fuck, he sounded like an asshole. He honestly didn't mean to say all those things… he didn't mean half of that shit he said to her… as if it was her fault for being caught in the middle of accidents. It wasn't her fault.

Fuck, and he finally screwed it all up.

_I'm a motherfucking asshole_… he couldn't help but agree with the thought as shaky breaths shook his body. As his breaths slowed and became steady, he dared himself to open his eyes. In the twilight sky, he saw Beth standing there… waiting.

He thought she had run off already, cursing him to hell… or was that his own thoughts? His eyes casted down immediate when he realized she was staring at him, tears streaming down her face, her face scrunched up as if she was in pain.

Goddamn, he was the asshole that caused those tears. Here was even more reason to believe she was better off hating him. She was right. She deserved more… she deserved better.

He opened his mouth to try and apologize, but he was unable to say a word. He felt nothing but overwhelming guilt—for the first time in his life, he felt ashamed of his words. He had no business saying those things to her… no business what so ever.

With a cry, Beth collapsed onto the floor; her breaths were rapid and shallow as she cradled her head with her hands.

"Beth!" He was crouched at her side within a second, scanning her for injuries. "Beth, what's wrong?" His guilt doubled, believing he was the one who caused her even more pain.

She hissed in pain and drew her knees closer to her so she could bury her face on her thighs. Daryl didn't know what to do—she didn't answer any of his questions. Finally, he gave up talking and simply pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, letting her bury her face in his chest.

For minutes, he held her without a saying a word. He had been an ass to her this entire time; he had no right to hold her. It felt so right but damn, did it feel wrong at the same time.

"That's not fair Daryl…" she began to speak again, her soft, teary voice made him close his eyes in shame. She was right—it wasn't fair for him to blow up on her like that. It wasn't right.

"Beth, I'm—," he began, stuttering and released his hold on her.

"Let me finish," she cut him off.

It took him every fiber of his body not to fall back onto his butt when she inched closer towards him, her face mere inches away from his own. In the dying light, he saw her blue eyes almost glow in a purple hue when she cupped his face and forced him to face her. Nothing in her eyes told him she was angry or afraid… instead, she had a bittersweet smile on her face.

"I told you don't lie to me, didn't I? All those things you said… about what happened to me…. I… I remember… most of it. And I know, with every damn part of me is that you _are_ a good man Daryl, without a doubt…" she brushed his cheek with her soft hands, and gave him a watery smile.

"What? Did you just… get your memories back?" he gaped, awed.

She nodded and beamed him a watery smile.

"This isn't no romance movie or something… how the hell? You can't just get your memory back and forgive me like that. I just—," he couldn't even finish his words, overwhelmed with guilt. Daryl brushed his own calloused fingers against her swollen bottom lip, regretting every word and action he had done and said while in his rage. He didn't deserve her ever… he didn't.

"I see the way you look at me sometimes… I may be young, but I'm not stupid. I know I'm not just some _piece of ass_ to you," she mocked his words with a lighthearted chuckle.

"You're not…" he cringed at his confession. A part of him marveled at how his Beth was so easy to forgive, so gentle and kind. His Beth…?

"I know there are still a lot of things I don't remember right now… it's still fuzzy but I remember most of it. I don't know why but whenever I look at you… my heart races. I'm always looking to see where you are or wondering if you're okay when you're out with Rick. I remember seeing your shadow everywhere I go—and I just know, you've always been making sure I was safe. What I do know for sure… is that what we had between us before I lost my memories… I don't want you to act like it never happened… Now that I do remember that there is an '_us'_, it only goes to prove that we shouldn't just hide it. I don't want to pretend like it never happened…"

A tear from her eyes splattered onto his thumb, and he continued to hold her gaze with his own and a warm sensation washed over him, pushing aside his feeling of guilt. He let out a shaky sigh and closed his eyes briefly before opening them again. "I can't… I ain't gonna be that perverted old man who takes advantage of a girl who lost her memory… it ain't right, even if you do remember most of it now. But Beth, I'm—I'm sorry for hurting you, for saying all that shit. You don't deserve that. You deserve better."

"How would it be you taking advantage of me when I'm the one who is telling you that I want this? You're not being fair Daryl… and I know for sure that this isn't a mistake. What I felt—no, what I'm feeling and what I remember, it's real. I don't know if it's love but I know… there's more to us than you're wanting us to believe."

Daryl remained silent, unable to coherently put together words to push her away. It wasn't love that he felt for her, was it? He just wanted her safe, happy and cared for—he didn't realize it until she was bitten just how much her presence meant to him and his sanity. Did he dare to let things go further though? For what he just did to her—he'll never forgive himself even if she just brushed it off as nothing. She was too forgiving… too naïve.

He muttered a silent thanks to the man above for letting Beth gain back some of her memories of him—as selfish as that sounded. Could he allow himself to care for her more than he already does? Would he come to regret it in the future? Too many different scenarios… it was almost unnerving.

"And it's not fair, Daryl," she repeated again, a twinkle of mischief sparkled in her eyes despite the fatigue evident on her face.

"What?" He was almost afraid to know what she wanted to say next.

"You said I was yours… and that you were going to save me. I remember… that you kissed me before everything blacked out," she grinned lazily when he visibly flinched at the memory.

"You remember that?"

"Mhm," she drawled, her smile growing wider. "I think you need to apologize to me."

Daryl nodded, agreeing completely in a more serious tone versus her lighthearted one. "I'm sorry Beth. I put my hands on you when I had no right to. I'm sorry for saying all that sh—those things. It ain't your fault for whatever happened to you."

Beth sighed then, a frustrated sigh. "That's not what I meant by apologizing Daryl," she huffed prettily, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Puzzled, Daryl pulled back with a confused look in his eyes. "What'dya want then?"

"Kiss me," she demanded abashedly, she adverted her gaze to the top of her drawn up knees. "Both times… just earlier and after I was bit, you kissed me. But… it was too rough… I—I want a real kiss."

Daryl was taken aback by the sudden change of events. He briefly wondered if she had officially gone insane. After all he had said, she still wanted him? "After all this… is that... Are yo— 's that what you really want?" he questioned, not bothering to conceal the shock in his voice.

She gave him a firm nod and turned to face him, her hands gripped the collar of his jacket. "You said those things out of anger. I know you don't mean it. I forgive you—every bit of it. Because I know you, Daryl Dixon. And I know, you will be regretting what you said for long time to come, even if I tell you that it's okay. Call me stupid, naïve… call me anything… but just… kiss me."

Daryl couldn't help but chuckle softly at her forwardness—she amazed him to no end. Always so forgiving, yes, she was also naïve, and an accident on legs. But damn, one thing is for sure, he couldn't deny her. From the deepest pit of his heart, he knew he had wanted to kiss her—to really kiss her for the longest time now.

He brushed aside the tendrils of sunkissed hair from her face, feeling a bit awkward at the whole situation. "You sure?"

Beth rolled her eyes at him and pulled against his jacket, forcing his head down. His arms secured around her back and waist to keep him from toppling over her and from her falling into the ground.

She gave him a lazy smile and brushed her soft lips lightly against his.

When he stilled, he felt her smile grow wider as their lips continued touched. Tentatively, he pulled her closer to his body to protect her form the chilled autumn air when she shivered.

Beth pulled back just a hair's width and whispers against his lips, "I've never been so sure in my life. Now… kiss me."

/

**J.R.-** Phew… long chapter. The end? Nope! It would be a good place to stop if I didn't have more things in store for the two.

I didn't want to drag her amnesia for a long time, so four days seemed good enough. Some people remember the next day and some just never remembers. Hopefully, it's not that hard to follow.

Okay, after 15 long chapters… we have a confession from the both of them, sort of! Yay! I'm excited to start writing some love between the two of them!

Next up, Beth!

_Thanks for reading, please review!_


	17. Thanksgiving

**Warning: Violent assault on first part of chapter. **

**Take Me as I Am**  
Chapter 17_  
[Thanksgiving]_

They were chasing her again. In this hellfire inferno, the restless dead were never too far from her heels. Anywhere she turned, they followed relentlessly. They wanted her. They wanted her to join them in their army of the undead—at least that's what they keep whispering. At least that's what the voices in her head keep telling her. These voices echoed all around her, following her as she busted through walls of flame and leaping over puddles of hot lava.

Her skin was scorched, pain shot up her spine with every minuscule movement she made. But she won't give up—there was something missing from her life. She was too young to die. She had yet to experience the gripping feeling of pure love, had yet to experience the joys of motherhood. She was too young to go.

And _him_, his face, his voice was constantly in her thoughts but she couldn't put a name to the face. Without a doubt, she knew he was someone precious to her. She remembers him holding her, his lips brushing against hers. What was his name? D… Darwin?

No, that wasn't it.

Despite these thoughts running through her head, her weary body kept pressing forward, eager to escape the walking dead. Suddenly, a decayed hand exploded through the scorched earth right beneath her, and grabbed her ankle as she failed to evade it.

With a cry, she fell head first into the burning dirt. In contrast, cold, dead hands gripped at her ankles then made their way up her legs.

"Y'er mine! I claimed ya!" she heard a raspy voice echo right behind her, his cold hands slipped under her shirt and began pulling at her jeans.

"No, no! Get off me!" she cries fell on deaf ears as she kicked her legs up behind her to push the assaulter off of her. She was at a disadvantage—nothing she did affected him. The walking dead that followed her just moments ago now surrounded her and the assaulter. They formed a circle, closing all ways of escape, a two story wall of flame blasted into the sky right behind them.

There was no escape. In a desperate attempt to see the face of her assaulter, she tucked her arms to her chest and role to her back. Her vision blurred with the action, and tried to focus on the red tinged sky above her.

"Yer ready for me, bitch?" That voice was so familiar—where did she hear his voice before?

Suddenly, her assaulter laughed, forcing her to crane her neck to see his face. She screamed in terror as memories of his face flashed before her eyes. Now, as an undead, he stared at her. Randy. There was nothing left of his head but his left eye, cheek and side of his mouth and ears. The right side had been pummeled to a pulp by Da… Daniel? Even at this point, she couldn't remember his name…

"Leave me alone!" she kicked at his chest with her legs, he continued to advance undeterred. With a yank of his decayed hands, her jeans tore into two. Her arms and legs were then held down by the horde of walkers around her. They stood by, their rotting mouths watering in anticipation.

"Help me! Someone, please!" she cried when the corpse of Randy toppled over her—gripping at her breasts, scraping his blood tinged fingernails against her skin.

_Please help me… someone… anyone… Dar… Dary…_

Frozen and held in place by walkers, she had no means to escape. Her eyes clenched shut and she prayed, prayed for redemption and a swift death.

A face hovered over her—decayed flesh dangled from his face as he stared at her with malicious eyes. Stokes.

"Praying won't work—you left me to die. You're going to Hell," Stoke's floating head taunted as it swirled in her vision above her head.

"Nevermind that, she's already is in Hell," Randy sneered, tearing the final piece of her clothing until she laid completely bare, pinned by walkers. He snarled when he was able to spread her legs and took the plunge.

A bloodcurdling scream ripped from her throat as her innocence was stripped from her. The floating head of Stokes bounced in her vision as he reveled in her pain, the wall of flame burned even higher until the end of the walls disappeared into the sky. With her scream, it set off the walkers around her.

They closed in, snapping their teeth at her until they latched onto her flesh and tore at her piece by piece as Randy pumped into her. She felt her warm blood gush out of her body—she wished desperately for a quick death but it never came.

She felt as if she was trapped in this moment forever, laying above the scorched dirt with hellfire burning around her, walkers tearing into her flesh—Randy stealing her innocence and Stokes laughing at her misery. Where will it end? When will it end?

Her limp body shook uncontrollably as she experience her nightmares all in one. Where was he now? Where did her savior go?

"Daryl… Daryl…" his name came so easily on her lips now.

"Daryl," she bawled as the image of his face flashed in her eyes.

_"Daryl… save me… please!"_

_Beth!_

Her body shook again, she heard his voice. It wasn't truly him—just another figment of her imagination.

_Beth!_

After she felt a sharp sting to her face, the hellish world around her shook and began crumbling down. Another sting blackened her vision until finally—when she opened her eyes, she saw him.

-0-

He held her by her shoulders, his blue eyes wide with concern.

With a cry, Beth launched herself into his arms, sobbing with uncontrolled terror in her voice. "Randy… He… He… " was all she could manage to say. She couldn't explain the gripping fear that pulsed through her body—all she could remember was the revolting image of him violating her.

He must've known what she was trying to say. She felt him release her for just a moment before lifting her up in his arms and then settled her in his lap. He pulled the dry end of the sweat drenched blanket to wrap around her trembling frame, and then pulled head to the crook of his neck, her face pressing against the warm skin.

Through her body wracking sobs, she heard him speaking to someone—who else was with them? She felt something was missing, but it was on the tip of her thoughts. The last thing she remembered was asking Daryl to end her life before she turned into one of them after she was bitten. But there was something else… there was something more that she couldn't grasp at this moment.

She jumped when she felt a hand on her back, and flinched away. "No… don't…"

"It's just me, Beth. You know I ain't going to hurt you. Don't you know that?" his low baritone voice rumbled his chest as he spoke. It soothed her to hear his voice.

She nodded but offered no explanation of what just happened. She dared to move her head just enough to take a peak around her. In the dim light of a lit tea light candle, she noticed it was the same room she took care of Daryl in. The funeral home. But something was off—things were moved to different places. There were another set of women's clothes in the room—too big for her to wear.

As her tears subsided, her heightened fear began to dwindle away slowly.

"You okay?"

She nodded, "Yeah…" she offered meekly. What else could she say? She wasn't the least bit 'okay' but she knew Daryl wasn't great with words either. She sighed a troubled sigh and sank deeper into his lap, getting as close as physically possible.

When he wrapped his arms around her this time, she didn't flinch. She was not afraid of him, he wouldn't hurt her. So she sat in his lap in silence, allowing his comforting warmth surround her in a protective state.

She didn't know how long they sat like that until she managed to build up enough courage to speak without crying again. Lifting her head from the crook of his neck, Beth turned to face the side of his face.

His eyes were shut, his nostril flare with each breath he took, his jaw seemed distended and tense from him clenching it.

Beth frowned at the thought of him possibly being upset at her. Which was probably unlikely. Still, she wanted to know what had him wound up. She lifted her left hand from underneath the blanket and brushed against the side of his face. It was almost an intimate gesture, something she normally wouldn't do. But with him, with Daryl, she didn't mind.

He opened his eyes at her touch, and turned to face her.

She saw the regret in his eyes, as if he was blaming himself for something he had no control over. All too well, she understood what he felt that way. It wasn't something he could have prevented. "It's not your fault, Daryl."

His eyes narrowed at her slightly, before turning his head away and shutting them once more.

"I should'a stayed up that night and let you sleep."

Beth shook her head, "He didn't…" she paused to suppress the cold shiver that tingled up her spine. She felt his arms tighten around her, whether instinctively or on purpose, she didn't know. Still, she had to smile at his gesture. He cared for her more than he let off sometimes.

"It was just a stupid dream… like the one I had before after you saved me in that tunnel. This time… _he_ was in it… he done it… and the walkers, they were eating at me. It was just a dream, it's not real anyway," she tried to brush it off like it was nothing. Truthfully, that dream… nightmare, had scared her beyond belief. The relief she felt when she saw Daryl's face—it was almost euphoric.

"Michonne was in here when you started screaming in your sleep… came and got us when she couldn't wake you up."

Beth felt her heart skip a beat. Michonne? She would remember if Michonne found them. What exactly happened? Her head throbbed painfully as she struggled to remember what had happened recently. In the back of her mind, she had a gut feeling that she and Daryl were not alone in the house. At the moment though, she couldn't really put her tongue on it.

"Rick knows… I told him."

"Knows what?" she questioned uncertainly. She tried to keep the surprise out of her voice. If Daryl mentioned Rick, then he must be here as well. And Carl. So… what happened to her that she couldn't remember them? She was so close to remembering… so damn close. It was on the tip of her brain, as if teasing her.

"That you got bit. He didn't say anything else… he just kinda accepted it."

"Hmm," she hummed laid her head against his shoulder once more. "And Michonne… and Carl?" She pressed on, hoping that he wouldn't catch on.

"Dunno. They freaked out when you jumped out of this window here, nothing really after that. Don'ya remember?"

Ah. Beth closed her eyes and nodded. So it wasn't a dream after all. The memory of her losing her memory was in a haze—blurry from all angles. She remembered the feeling of panic… then a female walker… Her avoiding Daryl, and him doing the same. Then… then… she asked him to kiss her. She couldn't fight the blush that crept up to her cheeks, heating her face up into a cherry pink color.

She saw his hand move and press his hand against her forward, "Yer feeling a bit warm. Ar'ya sick again?"

Beth brushed aside his hand, her face heating up a little more. "I'm feeling fine. Just a little warm is all." She pulled herself away from him, sitting up rigidly on his lap. His eyes landed on her, questioning her actions.

She blushed again, and shrugged.

"You really should be getting some more sleep," Daryl nodded at the pillow next to him.

Beth shook her head, "Too much sleep. I just want to stretch my legs… can you come with me?"

He looked out the window, debating as if it was a good idea or not. She felt a bit offended at the thought that he didn't believe she could take care of herself. After all, she did make that run all by herself.

"It's okay, I can go myself. I won't be long," she pushed herself off his lap with a leap, causing him to grunt from the pressure. He caught her arm before she could step away from the bed.

"I'm coming with you. Yer still recovering… shouldn't be alone."

It was then she noticed the fresh bandage on her right forearm. Her memory was a bit fuzzy, but she recalled him helping her change the bandage before she fell asleep last night. Judging by the sunlight in this room, it was roughly midmorning. He and Rick must've been doing something around the home before Michonne called them in because of her.

Gosh, she felt useless. For once, she just wanted to do something good for the people who protected her—especially Daryl.

Beth placed a hand over his calloused ones, and then entwined her fingers with his. She gave him a smile and shook her head, "I don't want to be a bother. I'm just going to walk around the house. I won't be far."

"No," Daryl's firm voice made the butterflies in her stomach flutter. "I ain't going to let you out there without protection."

"Daryl," she sighed. Now she was getting a bit annoyed at his lack of confidence of her. Truthfully, she did get into trouble a lot. But right now, all she wanted was to be alone, just for a short while. "I'll bring my knife and gun. Nothing's going to happen. I'll be within hearing distance from the house… I promise."

She could see he was battling himself as she held his eyes captive.

"Trust me, Daryl… I can take care of myself for just an hour—maybe even less. I just need a breather, no foul play," she gave him a hopeful smile. Half of her expected him to say no, or have Michonne or Carl go with her. But he finally gave him, and none too happy about it.

"Fine, stay near the house within ear's reach," he pulled his hand away from hers and stalked out of the room.

Beth sighed and glared at the door he stormed out of before a full smile bloomed on her face. He had allowed her to hold his hand—even if it was for a short minute. Truth be told, she had always admired Daryl. She really didn't realize it until now, but it might've been more like a school-girl crush. Which for this day and age seems ridiculous, but she couldn't help it. And now, he wiggled his way deeper into her heart.

She made short work of getting ready to go out for the walk. Getting dressed, brushing her hair, cleaning up. It almost seemed like a normal daily routine before the world ended—except of course, the strapping weapons to her belt part. She headed down into the foyer of the home and ran into Michonne and Carl in the kitchen.

"Hungry?" the black haired beauty gave her a knowing smile and offered her a plate of pancakes, without the syrup.

Beth smiled and thanked her before settling down to eat. As she sat there, she began recalling memories of the past few days. The men had gone on a run further away from the home and hauled back as much food as the car could handle—presumably to stock up before the first snow. She vaguely remembers putting up the food with Michonne and Carl, everyone drooling at the thought that they won't starve this winter. Still, with the overabundance of food, they had to be frugal.

"I can't remember the last time I had pancakes," Michonne began; a fond smile appeared on her face. "It ain't the best, but man, these are a god-send."

Beth laughed and nodded in agreement. "This place," she gesture at the house. "Someone had been taking care of this before… anyway. I was hoping someone showed up so I could thank them. But they never did."

"Might be better off that way, too. Rick and Daryl have been working on the generator and the propane tank at the back of the house; maybe we might even get a working house this winter."

"That would be awesome," Beth agreed. The rest of the short meal was eaten in a comfortable silence. When they were finished, Beth helped with the dishes as Carl and Michonne spoke quietly amongst their own.

Beth couldn't put her finger on it, but Carl seemed like a different person. Hollow, angry, troubled. She couldn't help but overhear their conversation about what he was going to do for the day. He replied to Michonne with 'nothing,' which gave her a thought.

"Would you like to go out on a walk with me?" Beth asked after Michonne left the kitchen to join the two men.

Carl shrugged, "Where to?" He seemed so aloof and uncaring. Something must've happened to him while they were out on their own.

"I wanted to go out for some fresh air, and I was wondering if you would like to come with me," she offered. Then quickly added, "I just think it's better for me to have someone watch my back. You know." It wasn't a lie, she wanted to go alone but hey, at least she kept Daryl's concern in mind. Not to mention, she wanted to know why Carl seemed so down lately. Darn, she was just too nosey.

He nodded, his eyes brightened a bit. "Yeah, I can do that. Are we going far?"

"Nah uh, just around the house. Within ear shot of the house, sounds good?"

Carl tipped his hat and grinned, "Sounds good to me."

-0-

The first fifteen minutes into their walk, they were silent, keeping an ear out for trouble. But soon, they fell into comfortable conversation, asking about what they used to do for fun or what they missed the most about life before the walkers came.

Slowly though, their conversations grew more serious. They spoke about Judith and Lori. Beth couldn't help but shed a few tears for the little girl who stole her heart. The sweet angel she went back for in the prison was nowhere to be found. She could only pray that the baby was safe.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," Carl offered, his tone a bit clipped.

Beth shook her head, "Why aren't you upset about it?"

"I am… just… there's a lot on my mind right now." They ventured a bit deeper into the woods. The once green leaves were now brown and scattered over the forest floor, making it easier to backtrack their movements in case they went in too deep.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" Beth pressed on; hoping to find out what had been bothering him.

"Not really, no offense."

"Well… offense taken," she frowned at him mockingly until the both of them laughed lightly.

"Can I trust you?"

Beth was appalled at the thought that Carl didn't trust her. He was like a little brother to her, a part of Judith's family. Of their scattered family. "Of course you can trust me."

"When Daryl found us… the men that followed us," he was struggling to put out the words. "They were going to kill us for killing one of their own. But before that… the leader… I think his name was Joe, said they were going to… take me and then Michonne… then kill my dad."

Beth was frozen in her tracks when she heard Joe's name, then her heart went cold when she heard the rest of what Carl said. A gripping fear washed over her as memories of Randy tearing at her clothes flashed in her eyes. With a gasp, Beth slumped onto the ground, clutching her blue hoodie at her chest.

"What's wrong?!" Carl placed a shoulder on her arms in a comforting gesture.

Beth nodded, "Yeah… just… brings back memories."

"Of those men?" Carl sounded surprised.

"Yeah, before they went to you. Daryl and I were with them. They're not good people, Carl. They… they say they have rules and they follow them… but they're liars. Did they follow you back to the funeral home?" Suddenly afraid that Joe and the rest of the men will find their sanctuary.

Carl shook his head, "Naw. Daryl and my dad took care of them." He sounded hollow still, as if talking about killing people didn't matter to him.

Then Beth realized what Carl was so conflicted about. Her heart cried out for him, and she pulled him into a sisterly embrace. "It wasn't your fault. Don't blame yourself, okay Carl? Don't give up hope either. There is still good out in this world. Don't forget it."

The next moment she knew, Carl wept silently in her arms. She felt terrible for him. He had lost his mother, and she figured he wasn't able to talk to anyone else about this. It must've been eating him up inside. Beth stroked his hair, hoping to comfort him.

"They never got to do it though, right?"

Carl nodded, but did not respond.

Beth smiled, "Good… I was lucky too."

That caught his attention. Carl pulled away and wiped his tears from his eyes, a concerned look plastered on his face. "What do you mean you were lucky too? Did someone try to hurt you?"

She held back a grimace that threatened to surface. Instead, she nodded, "By a person in the same group… Daryl took care of him though. But I dream of it sometimes…"

"Is that why you were crying in your sleep?"

Beth blushed, "Yeah. Sorry for waking you up."

"I'm glad that they didn't get to hurt you. I think Daryl would've killed everyone there if they did," Carl grinned and winked at her, a knowing smile crossed his face.

Beth's blush deepened, she was forced to look away embarrassed. "Wh-what are you talking about?"

Carl scoffed and dusted himself off before offering a hand to help Beth up, which she gratefully accepted. "It's not like we're blind. He looks after you. I think he likes you."

She choked on the breath she was taking when he said that. She stammered, unable to say anything.

Without waiting for her, Carl began walking away before saying over his shoulders, "You know it's Thanksgiving, right?" He was talking as if he didn't just surprise the daylights out of her.

"Uh… yeah… I think so," she answered uncertainly as she caught up next to him. "Why?"

Carl pointed at the ground in front of them, before looking up at the large tree. Beth followed his gaze and gasped, a pleasant sensation washed over her.

"What?!" She gasped incredulously, and sank into her knees to brush aside the leaves. "Apples! But it's the end of November!"

On the ground were multiple apples, scattered all around the base of the tree. Some had already been rotten to the core. But some were still intact—a bit shriveled but they could still be eaten if need be. Above them, the tree had but a handful of intact apples left, less shriveled but still looked old.

"Don't know why but, what I wouldn't do for some apple pie!" Carl laughed loudly. It was the first time Beth had heard him laugh so genuinely. The memory she temporary lost after she woke up from her sleep, she remembered Carl being solemn and kept to himself, brooding. He turned to her then wiggled his eyebrows and grinned widely, "I bet Daryl would like some pie too."

"You little snot," Beth punched his shoulder lightly, playfully sore from the younger male picking at her. But he was right. After all that they had gone through… something as simple as a pie may lift everyone's spirits up. Especially since, it is Thanksgiving after all.

-0-

It was a chore but they did it. With Carl's help, they managed to make a small Thanksgiving feast for the five of them—a pot of rabbit stew and two apple pies. Minutes after Carl and her pulled the two homemade apple pies from the oven; the front door to the funeral home clicked open and in strolled the two astounded men and a very impressed Michonne.

"Surprise! Happy Thanksgiving!" Beth laughed and clapped her hands in front of her chest.

"How…?" The smile that Rick had on his face was priceless.

Beth looked to Carl and nudged him, "I couldn't have done it without Carl. He found the apples and caught the rabbit."

Carl didn't speak, instead, he shifted on his feet nervously, something Beth never thought he would do in the presence of his father.

"Come here, bud," Rick opened his arms and took a step towards them. Carl returned his father's embrace without a word. Rick patted Daryl on the shoulder and grinned, "We've got a lot to be thankful for, don't we?"

"Yeah, Beth's wonderful homecooked meals," Michonne laughed and pulled a piece of the hot pie crust off the dish and popped it in her mouth. "I don't know how you managed to make this, but girl, this hits the spot." She walked over and pulled her into a warm embrace.

Beth smiled brightly at Daryl, who returned her smile with his own smaller one. Without a word to each other, Beth entwined her hand in his and pulled him towards the unoccupied seats at the table.

"Now hold up everyone," Rick spoke up before anyone was able to take a bite. "I think it's best," he began and reached out his hand to Carl on his right and Michonne on his left. "If we say grace. Hershel would've wanted to. Would you like to do the honors, Beth?"

At the mention of her father's name, tears swelled up in her eyes. Beth gave Rick a grateful smile and nodded in agreement, "Yes… he would've." She reached over and held Daryl's and Michonne's hand, while Daryl reached for Carl's.

Softly, she spoke, her voice cracked with raw emotion. "Heavenly Father," she began slowly as she recalled her father's favorite grace by Ralph Waldo Emerson. "For each new morning with its light, for rest and shelter of the night, for health and food, for love and friends, for everything Thy goodness sends, We offer our thanks. Amen."

-0-

Beth stepped into the porch of the funeral home, relishing in the cool air after cleaning up the dishes. She was grateful she was able to do something for the group—even if it was something meager like making apple pie. If it weren't for the men fixing the propane and generator, it wouldn't have happened though.

With a sigh, Beth leaned against the wooden railing with her bottom pressing against the wood and her back against a support pillar. She looked out past the wooden spear fence that Daryl had erected. Their little funeral home looked like a fortress. There was hope that maybe; just maybe they could stay here without having to move for the winter.

The thoughts of today slowly crept up on her, bringing her into a small bout of tears when she remembered Rick's kindness to think of Hershel on this night. Thanksgiving was always her daddy's favorite holiday—next to Christmas and Easter of course. He was a strict man, but he loved his children dearly. She missed him, every bit of him. A part of her wanted him to be here to scold her for caring for an older man, but somehow, she knew he would accept Daryl.

Not that they were an item or anything of the sort. It was just… things were different when it came to Daryl. Daddy had always liked him—most of the time.

"Hey," Daryl's low voice brought her out of her musings.

She didn't even hear him step onto the porch. She beamed him a smile under the half moon and wiped her tears. "Hey," she returned her voice a bit nasally.

"You okay?" he propped his hands up against the railing, making it creek just slightly.

Beth nodded, "Yeah… just thinking about Daddy. He…" She couldn't find a way to continue before she started to cry again. "Ugh, I just keep crying today," she sniffled as she began wiping her tears with her sleeve. "I just… I just miss him so much."

Daryl pulled himself off of the railing and walked in front of her, before pulling her into his arms with a sigh. He almost sounded annoyed at her.

Beth pulled away slightly, unsure of his tone. "It's okay, you don't have to. I don't want to be that annoying little girl."

"You ain't," he rasped, his voice low. He engulfed her in his arms once more, while she remained leaning against the railing with her bottom.

She enjoyed the heat emitted as she tried hard to stop her tears. "I hope Maggie, Glenn… everyone… I hope they're okay," she mumbled into his neck.

Daryl hummed in agreement and stroked her back gently. It was so gentle, so different from the Daryl that blew up in her face just yesterday.

"Do you think we'll see them again?"

"Maybe, maybe not," he whispered. "We won't know 'til we cross that road."

Beth sighed and nodded, "I hope we do. I miss them. I miss Judith." At the mention of the little girl, fresh tears fell anew.

Daryl pulled back, and brushed away her tears before cupping her face with his hand. "We'll find them. Can't do it now, first snow will come soon. Our best bet now is to survive the winter together, and search for them after the snow melts. But we'll find them, we'll try."

She gave him a hopeful smile, "I'm so thankful that you're here." A blush crept up on her cheek at her confession. She had gone too far for her to retreat now. It wasn't a secret to him, or anyone else in this house it seems like. She had feelings for this ruggedly handsome redneck. She could only hope he felt the same, though she didn't expect him to admit it at all.

"Me too," he whispered, peering into her eyes before looking away.

Her heart hammered in her chest at his words. It wasn't a confession of undying love, but from Daryl… that was more than enough. She smiled and leaned forward, putting some of her weight against him. They listened to the night in comfortable silence—content knowing that they could not hear walkers nearby. At least for the moment, they were safe.

After a while, Beth spoke again, her voice soft and teasing.

"So… there is an '_us_' now, right?" She felt his breath catch in his throat, and she resisted the urge to laugh. She knew he wasn't going to answer, but she wasn't going to give up the opportunity to tease him for screaming at her like that yesterday. Her memories were back, still a bit hazy at times, and she was going to use it to her full advantage. It wasn't him that's going to take advantage of her; it will be her taking advantage of him, she giggled to herself.

"Us huh? Yeah, guess so… don't rightly know," he shrugged; his face and neck grew increasingly warm.

Beth gasped, taken aback when he agreed. "Really? You… you really think so? What made you change your mind?"

He pulled back enough to peer into her eyes, as if searching for something. A sense of deja vu washed over her when he didn't repeat, she asked him again. "What made you change your mind?"

"… You."

/

**JR-** Long, long chapter again! I was waiting to post this near Thanksgiving… but I couldn't bear to wait until then to update.

Thank you for all the reviews everyone, they're all so lovely! I love the feeling of getting reviews, makes me write faster!

I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter!

_Thanks for reading, please review!_


	18. Red-Handed

Hmmm… I haven't updated in a LONG time! With Beth's death in the cannon TWD, I lost a lot of my spark with writing. But, a great thanks to everyone who kept encouraging me to write, and reminding me that I have obligations to finish these stories! You know who you are! Many Thanks!

Please bear with me as I try to recollect my ideas for this story :)

**Take Me as I Am**  
Chapter 18_  
[Red-handed]_

"Quit pickin' at it, gonna scar if you rip it off now," Daryl grumbled from his seat across the small table in the kitchen.

Beth shrugged at his comment. Her attention was solely focused on the scab on her forearm, "It'll scar regardless. It keeps catching onto my shirt when I change. It's only a matter of time before it my sleeves rip the dang thing off and make a bloody mess."

"That scab is pretty gross. I remember picking that stuff off of my knees and elbows," Carl jumped in the conversation, pausing on occasion to swallow the food in his mouth.

"Don't talk with your mouth full Carl," Rick corrected his young teenage son.

"Sorry," he grinned after swallowing his mouth of food. "I don't blame Beth though. That scab looks like a piece of beef jerky stuck to her arm."

"Ooh, what I wouldn't do for some beef jerky right now. Maybe I should eat my arm," Beth joked and looked up from her arm, only to find a table of faces staring at her with a disbelieving stare. She couldn't help but laugh merrily at their expense. "I'm kidding!"

The others chuckled and quickly finished their breakfast before heading out for the daily chores. Thanksgiving had come and gone, and slowly, the small group of five fortified the funeral home for the winter. Just yesterday, the three men and Michonne had finished setting up a second row the spear-fence about fifteen feet further outwards from the first one Daryl had built. The tedious task had taken them eight long days, but the security of the second layer was necessary should a large herd run through.

Beth had taken on the task of making their daily meals, and keeping inventory of their supplies. With the occasional supply run or hunting trip with Daryl, she was quite content with how things turned out. Her companions weren't treating her like a fragile doll—though in the beginning, Daryl practically smothered her with this rugged-over-protective ways until he finally gave up.

Three weeks passed since she had woken up from her coma, it was now mid-December. For the first week, events that had passed haunted her in her dreams. Father Stokes, Randy, walkers… of her turning into a walker. The nightmares had progressed to a point where she couldn't sleep for more than an hour at a time. Such stress eventually took a toll on her body to the point where she could barely get out of bed without falling over. It had caused a great deal of stress on Daryl and the others as well. The only one who could comfort her or wake her up was Daryl. The others didn't get much sleep with her screaming every few hours.

That was when Daryl had said 'Fuck it,' and had begun sleeping in her bed—holding her in his masculine arms every night since then. And she loved every moment of it. She never questioned Daryl's intentions when he told her to scoot over on the bed. She knew he would never hurt her—or any other woman for that fact, in such a way.

Daryl usually fell asleep as soon as he closed his eyes; exhausted from the day's work. There were a couple of nights where he would uncharacteristically hold small talk with her. They spoke of random things—from what they missed about the old world to what their plans were for the next morning. Their conversations would never last long before Daryl fell asleep from sheer exhaustion; even still, she could feel Daryl opening himself to her with each passing day.

She wouldn't describe herself as the most intuitive person around, though she knew without a doubt that he felt something for her. Ever since that Thanksgiving night, she couldn't keep her mind off of him. Well, her mind was preoccupied with his presence even before then, though now it was much more difficult for her to think of anything else but him.

Call her a childish teenager with rampant, uncontrolled hormones or something – recently, she has been wishing Daryl would just take her into his arms and ravish her while they were in bed together. The very thought brought a heated blush over her face, spreading as far down to her collarbones. She wouldn't know too much about sex, except for what the school taught them in their sex-education course. And… her blush darkened, and what she and her friends would watch on those porn videos.

Yes, church-going, girl-next-door Beth Greene did in fact dabble in the dark sultriness of porn videos. It had only been one time—maybe twice. Maybe. Each time however, Beth would shy away from the videos and force herself to think of other things while her friends watched on with wide, observant eyes. So while she wasn't totally ignorant of sexual coupling between men and women, she hadn't experienced it firsthand. Though with the vivid dreams she has, one would think otherwise.

"Beth?"

She jumped at the sound of her enigma's sweet baritone voice. "Yes?" she whispered, breathless at the thought that she was caught staring out into space as she finished drying the dishes.

She kept her eyes down casted, and willed her hands to stop trembling as she continued her task.

"You okay? Y'er face is flushed, feelin' sick at all?" He stopped her hands from fumbling with the drying cloth and took a step closer to her. He bent closer to her and touched his forehead with hers.

In an instant, her sky blue eyes locked onto his lips when his scent of forest and sunshine tickled her senses. She tried to say she was fine, but her words came out jumbled and rushed.

The corner of his lips twitched, "What'sa matter, Beth?"

Beth cursed inwardly, damn man was teasing her. The last time he kissed her, the day before Thanksgiving, he left her yearning for more. She knew he held himself back, just as he was guarding himself from her now. No matter how much of himself he opened to her, he was always guarded with her. And Beth was determined to weasel her way into his heart and claim him completely—one way or another. Although now… it was difficult for her to do anything but stare at his lips with hunger.

His grin widened, thinning his warm lips from the stretch of his skin. "Are you sure?" he asked, bringing his lips closer to hers.

Numbly, Beth nodded her head with jerky movements as their foreheads remained touching.

His lips claimed hers as soon as she nodded her consent, air rushed into her lungs from her sudden gasp as his brushed his warm lips to hers. Her eyes fluttered closed at the sensations he awoken within her. Her fingers went numb; and her knees were growing weak with need. He continued to brush his lips against hers, until she realized he would not go further. This would be the fourth time he kissed her… ever. Just like the other three, he was guarded and offered little but a brief brush of his lips against hers.

Damned be, she needed more. So much more. With a frustrated moan, Beth dared to part her lips and run her tongue against the soft skin of his bottom lip. She suckled his spicy flesh in between her lips until he throatily moaned into their kiss—she felt his resolve weaken. Bolder now, Beth inched closer to him, pressing her small breasts against his chest, her hands abandoned the plate and rag that was now wedged between them and gripped his vest until her knuckles glowed white. She continued to suckle his bottom lip; her warm tongue caressed the soft flesh in her hot mouth.

A rumble vibrated deep from within his chest, and he pulled back from their kiss. His hands snaked to her waist and held her firmly in place, his steel blue-grey eyes penetrated her soul as he gaze deeply into her own eyes. He didn't utter a single word. Instead, he held her gaze and her body close to his. Her eyes inadvertently trailed down to his lips when she tasted him in her mouth. She swiped her bottom lip with her tongue, savoring his unique taste.

His eyes locked onto her lips once more, and with a heady growl he crushed her body even closer to his, his hard arousal pressing against her lower side of her stomach. She gasped in response; the black pupils of her eyes nearly consumed the sky blue color of her irises.

Beth moaned unabashedly when he claimed her lips again, this time with fervor and unabated hunger. His moist, hot tongue thrusted into her mouth at her mouth, his shaved stubbles of facial hair prickled against her soft skin as he deepened their kiss. She could feel his hardness strain against the fabric of his jeans as it pulsed and twitched against her stomach. He pushed against her then, her soft backside pressed against the kitchen counter, her body trapped between it and his lean body.

Her body tingled anew when his warm hand cupped the side of her right breast and gave a gentle squeeze. Desperate for more, Beth pressed against him even harder, and battled his tongue with hers. She earned a throaty moan from Daryl, and him grinding his hard erection against her frame. If she didn't know any better, she would think her body was on fire from the way it sizzled under his impassioned kiss.

His hands abandoned their previous posts and slipped under the hem of her sweater, relishing the coolness of his hands against her fiery skin. His hands trailed their way upwards, slowly and unhurried to reach their destination. The muscles in her abdomen clenched deliciously against his rough hands, her own aroused flesh grew moist and achy. Without a doubt in her mind, she wanted him to take her then and there. Screw what the others would think.

"Daryl, hurry—," a voice boomed from the outside right before the front door swung open, and into the kitchen, strolled Rick.

She vaguely felt the way Daryl's spine stiffened and then immediately leaped away from her. The cloth and the plate that was wedged between them fell and shattered into sharp shards over the linoleum floor.

Beth's face flushed as red as Daryl's at the prospect of being 'caught' red-handed.

She heard Rick shift on his feet uncomfortable with the scene he just witnessed first-hand, and then cleared his throat. "So Daryl," he began, his all-knowing eyes darting between her and Daryl. "How 'bout those empty bags?"

Daryl swallowed thickly and nodded, still avoiding Rick's dark gaze. "Yeah, gimme a minute. I'll take them out there here in a sec."

"Alright then, _hurry up_. It's cold as hell out there," he insinuated the words '_hurry up'_ as a father would his baby girl's boyfriend before he gotten an ear full and probably a shotgun aimed at his crouch. Beth winced at his tone, and once again winced as Rick stormed out the front door.

"Shit," Daryl hissed and ran his hand through his hair.

Beth knew her face was still flushed and red, her lips swollen and pink from his passionate kiss, but it didn't matter to her. A small twitch of her lips formed before it broke out into a full faced smile. A small giggle escaped her lips as she squatted to the floor to pick up the shards of the broken plate.

"Let me get'em," Daryl followed suit and picked up the larger pieces and tossed them into the trashcan before pulling the broom and dustpan from the side of the refrigerator. The cleanup was quick and silent; no other words were exchanged between the two.

All the while, Beth smiled to herself.

"What's so damn funny? I think Rick's 'bout to kick my ass," Daryl grumbled as he pulled the plastic bags from one of the bottom cabinets, as he was supposed to do, so she assumed.

Beth laughed, "You think so? You can handle him, can't you?"

Daryl shot her a grouchy glare before he finally relented and chuckled. She held still when he walked over to her, his free hand brushing her cheek, his steel blue eyes searching deeply into hers.

"Yer gonna be the death of me," he whispered, his breath fanning against her face. His eyes shone brightly with tender affection, despite his semiserious-stern tone.

She leaned into his caress, her heart and mood basked in his rare show of affection. Quickly, she arched onto the tip of her toes and brushed her well-kissed lips against his briefly. She pulled back with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes and tapped his nose with her finger.

"Not unless Rick gets to you first," she laughed and quickly disappeared up the stairs, leaving Daryl dumbfounded in the kitchen.

/

**JR** – in the light of things, I thought they deserved a scene with a 'real' kiss. So… roughly… 6 weeks since chapter 13, and 7 weeks since S4:13. In the 3 weeks after Beth woke up, she and Daryl bonded, of course. Hence, why they're more comfortable with each other.

I think I remember the plan for this story, so here's to hoping I finish this soon! And maybe sometime soon, I'll go back to the previous chapters and fix my spell/writing mistakes.

_Thanks for reading, please review and stay tuned for the next chapter! _


	19. The Talk

**Take Me as I Am**  
Chapter 19_  
[__The Talk__]_

Daryl gripped the plastic sacks in his hand so tightly, he felt the fragile material tear under his trimmed fingernails. After adjusting his... _ahem_... from his heated kiss with Beth into a more inconspicuous fashion, he hurried to deliver the bags to Rick. Damn did he feel embarrassed when Rick walked into the kitchen. It won't happen next time. If there is a next time, that is.

""ere you go man," Daryl tossed the crumpled bags at Rick, who caught it without missing a beat.

Rick nodded his thanks, his eyes were stern and a frown marred his clean-shaven face. "We have to finish setting up the bags before long. I think a storm's brewing out north- we should make a final run into a few outlying towns before we get trapped in. Me, you and Michonne. Beth and Carl can guard the house until we're back."

"We're gonna leave them alone in there?" The question sounded innocently enough.

"Yeah, they're gonna be just fine. We gotta start setting up for Spring. The rest of them... They're out there. They ain't dead and we've got to find them," Rick let out a troubled sigh and paused, placing a hand against one of the angled spears and the other bent at his hip. It was a stance of a man with many troubles and regrets running through his head.

Daryl felt for him. Dare he say it, he missed their family too. A part of him felt guilty as well. The entire time he was separated from their family in the prison, it was just him and Beth. He cared for no one else but Beth- she had somehow engulfed his conscious and subconscious thoughts. He knew at the back of his mind, they're still alive- even if it's just one member left, he would hold out for that hope. He knew Beth felt the same way too.

"You know, I ain't gonna lie. For the past few months, all I been worried about is keeping Beth and my sorry ass alive. Ain't had the time to worry about the others until I had time to sit down and think. I got a feeling though- they're still out there. Beth too. She ain't gonna give up hope on finding Maggie... And Judith," Daryl's gruff voice softened at the mention of the family's youngest member... Judith.

Rick inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled sharply. "They're out there. Don't know where to start looking though. This winter will be rough... snow's gonna erase all the tracks. At this point, I'm just grateful Carl is with me."

For the next half hour, the two men worked on the final touches of their spear-fence. They tested it time and time again from multiple angles until they deemed it near-walker proof. Of course, nothing is walker-proof. The two men stopped and stepped back, observing their handiwork from the front porch.

"Think it'll hold up against them walkers?" Rick started, his hands on his hips.

Daryl nodded, "Yeah. It'll hold. It ain't the walkers I'm worried about though." He turned to hold Rick's curious gaze with his steel blue eyes. "I don't know about leaving them alone for the run this afternoon," he nodded at the front door behind them. Soft chatter and feminine giggles emitted from behind the door as Beth, Carl and Michonne played a board game they found in one of the closets.

"Beth's good now, isn't she?"

The redneck shrugged, "physically... Yeah. She still has them nightmares though. If I ain't there next to her, she'll attract all the damn walkers around this area with her banshee screams."

"We'll be back before night hits if we leave here soon. You won't miss sleeping with her tonight," Rick said- Daryl could hear the disapproval in his friend's voice.

"It ain't like that," Daryl countered, he couldn't help but feel bristled at his tone.

"And whatever I saw in the kitchen is a figment of my imagination, right?" Rick's body turned to him, his stern gaze questioned him as a protective father would do. "I know it ain't my place to talk about this with you Daryl. But... Hershel, he...," he trailed off momentarily, his eyes glazed with a passing thought. "Hershel and Maggie ain't here, and she's near Carl's age. I just- I just feel responsible for her."

Daryl crossed his arms, a defensive stance, and leaned up against the side of the house covered by the porch's awning. "I hadn't done something for you to think that way. She's a grown ass woman, she can be responsible for herself."

"I know man, I trust you. Her family took us in those years ago, some died protecting us... She practically raised Judith and Hershel died because I let that damn one-eyed fucker live. I owe her and the Greene family a great deal. If it weren't for them, where would we be now?"

Daryl grunted in agreement. "Still, I ain't touched her. Not in the way you're thinking."

"I don't doubt you Daryl. She is a beautiful young woman, and I'm not against you two being involved... Just... Thinking about Lori. I- I just wanna make sure there ain't no baby surprises here in the next few months."

"And there will be none," Daryl growled out, rather briskly.

Rick was about to retaliate when the front door opened, a soft voice spoke behind them.

"What are you guys up to?" Beth asked curiously, her wide blue eyes glancing curiously between the two grown, rugged men.

"'bout something that won't happen. Gonna go get Michonne. Gotta go on one final run before sundown. Rick says a storm's a'brewing," Daryl all but growled and brushed past Beth and entered the house, leaving Beth and Rick to speak softly to each other on the front porch.

He entered the room where the casket used to be set up and found Michonne and Carl sneaking cards to each other. His eyebrows raised at the playful mood in the home. It was a stark contrast to his conversation with Rick on the porch.

Daryl cleared his throat, "Michonne, Rick says the three of us are gonna go for a run. Carl and Beth will man the house. We ain't gonna be long."

"Okay," the woman said to Daryl before turning to Carl. "Are you going to be okay?"

Carl shrugged, "why wouldn't I be? We'll be fine, promise."

Rick entered the hall with Beth's smiling face in tow. "You guys ready?" The sheriff crossed the room and gave Carl a quick hug before retrieving a few supplies that laid ready at the base of the table. Daryl and Michonne followed his suit, gathering their supplies while going over the checklist mentally.

Beth took her seat on the table besides Carl, watching them get ready with a worried glaze in her eyes. Though, her vision focused on one specific person in particular.

"Alright, we'll be back soon. Carl," Rick nodded at his oldest child. "Man the house, son."

Carl nodded and pressed his hand against the gun holstered at his hip. With that note, Rick, Michonne and Daryl headed for the front door.

Disappointment washed over Beth when Daryl shut the door behind him without a single word to her. What had happened between him and Rick that had caused Daryl to be so indifferent? Did he mean something by his silence? What if he never returns, or worse, she turns before he returns? Her heart quivered, a sudden image of a blond walker in her clothes flashed before her eyes. The sheer image of her as a walker forced her into action.

Beth sprang onto her feet, knocking her chair backwards behind her as she raced to the door.

"Daryl," she called out, catching a glimpse of his back just as he was about to climb out of the fence perimeter. With her blood pounding in her ears, she couldn't find the words to say to him. All she could do was stare at his face. The face, she realized now, that she would never forget- no matter the situation... Dead or alive. A part of her felt silly to feel as if he was leaving her forever. For some reason, an ill foreboding feeling was settling in the pit of her stomach.

Daryl turned around at her cry for him. He saw her standing on the porch, one hand clutching onto one of the porch's support beams. God damn, his heart jumped for a beat at the sight of her- she was beautiful. His body ached to feel her- just to have her in his arms for a brief moment before the trio set out for the afternoon. A part of him knew why she called after him. Though she would never admit it to him, he knew she's afraid of waking up and turning into one of the undead. He could see it in her eyes, those damn beautiful blue eyes.

She didn't say a single word to him, yet her worried gaze spoke volumes. _Stay safe, come home soon_.

He dipped his head for a subtle nod, his heated gaze never leaving hers. _I will. _

Beth smiled a watery smile in return. _I'll be right here waiting._

"I know," Daryl whispered under his breath before nodding to her a final time and proceeded to climb over the fence.

/

**JR **\- I feel like that's a good place to stop. There you have it folks, the reason why Rick got his panties in a bunch after walking in on Beth and Daryl kissing. And why does Beth feel the way she does?

Stay tuned for next chapter! Thanks for reading, please review!


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